Feed the Madness and it feeds on you
by Those sadistic tendencies
Summary: A.U to "Hat Trick". Emma and Jefferson fall through the hat together into a new world when he is pushed out of the window. On the quest to return to Storybrooke bonding, realisations and adventure ensues. MadSwan / Jefferson/Emma pairing. Rated T (for now) due to violence and themes of torture and mental health issues. Whump and smut
1. 1 - Just a car crash away

**Just a car crash away**

The night was dark and Emma was struggling to see anything in the thin beam of her bug's headlights, as they barely illuminated the fog swathed road ahead of her. She scanned the edges of the road as she drove, searching for any signs of Mary-Margaret, only managing to see the darkened trees, fog, rain and asphalt around her. She knew that she had to find her friend, and soon, if she stood any chance of getting her back to the station before Regina, or someone else, discovered her escape. She didn't think that Mary-Margaret could have gotten very far, and couldn't imagine where she would be running to - from what she had heard from Henry and the school-teacher herself, she had never even left Storybrooke.

Emma shook her head to refocus herself and looked back to the road. Suddenly she saw that there was a figure on the fringe of the road ahead of her, she swore loudly and swerved, just missing clipping the man as she slammed on the brakes, screeching to a sliding halt on the edge of the road. Emma unbuckled her seat-belt and leapt from the car, running to the edge of the road where she had seen the man roll down the steep slope. To her relief, the man was already clambering back up the incline and appeared to be uninjured, just dusty, and somewhat battered from his fall.

The Sheriff ran forward to help him up the last part of the incline and back onto the road. The man was tall, dressed in a long dark coat and scarf, and was undeniably handsome – despite the obvious look of a man who knew it – his dark hair was slicked back, and he had a rather cocky air to the way he held himself. Though there was a dark, slightly haunted look deep behind his piercing cobalt blue eyes. It was the same sort of look that Emma recognised time and time again – the look of someone who had lost much; of someone who had experienced pain and removed themselves from others because of it. Growing up in the foster system and being bounced from one lonely, childless couple to the next, she had grown accustomed to recognising the look of loss. Emma was taken aback by the familiarity of the aura she felt emanating from this man, but was quick to offer her apologies for nearly running the man down due to her own distraction.

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay? I didn't see you there..." Emma stared at his face anxiously, searching for any signs that he might be injured in a way that she had not yet noticed.

"I-I think so..." the man stammered, looking slightly shell shocked.

"Are you sure?" Emma probed further, unconvinced by the man's brush-off remark.

"I'm fine. I'm just not used to sharing the road with cars so late." He looked at her sideways, with a slight smile pulling at the edge of his lips. There was now a slightly off look that unnerved Emma in a way she couldn't quite describe. "You're the Sherriff aren't you?"

"Yeah..." Emma nodded, still somewhat unused to the title, and also the feeling of everyone seeming to know who she was – just one of the quirks of living in a small town she guessed, although she couldn't remember ever seeing this man before; he was quite a smart dresser, what with the dress coat and polished shoes, plus he had a rather memorable face. She was pretty sure that she would have remembered meeting such a distinguishable man as this.

"What brings you out here in the middle of the night?" the man asked, eyes flickering around their surroundings – probably looking for any other potential threats.

"Oh, nothing to worry about, I'm just looking for a... lost dog." Emma hurriedly improvised, not wanting to admit the escape of someone who was officially a murder suspect. Even if this man might have actually seen Mary-Margaret or something that could help to find her – it was difficult to know who to trust in this town, what with Regina seemingly having eyes and ears everywhere. The man's lips twitched slightly at that, and something in Emma recoiled at the movement, she put it off as the man simply finding it funny that she had nearly run him over while searching for a lost dog.

"Well, I hope you find it." He smiled at her and began to walk away, limping rather heavily on his right leg.

"Oh you _are_ hurt!" Emma moved after him, concerned, despite the fact that this man was a stranger, she didn't want to leave him alone, and injured, in the middle of the woods, at night – especially with what she'd experienced already in her short time in Storybrooke, this town seemed to attract more trouble than any other she'd ever been to, despite its size and seemingly charming exterior.

"No, I just twisted my ankle, I think. I live just a mile down the road, I'll make it okay."

"No, let me drive you. I insist." Though Emma knew she was on a timer to find Mary Margaret before anyone found out she was gone, she felt obligated to help this man that she could have easily killed.

The man flashed a grateful smile at her that was laced with something akin to relief, his eyes seeming to lighten to a china blue shade. "Thank you." He paused for a moment before continuing "I'm Jefferson." He offered her a gloved hand, which she took, shaking it and then offering him an awkward smile in return.

"Emma."

They both got into Emma's yellow bug and she started it up before continuing back along the road, still keeping an eye on the trees at the edge of the highway, just in case. The ride was uneventful until Jefferson pointed to the turning to his house; she turned up into a long driveway that led up to a large, rather Gothic, yet still beautiful mansion. The size and grandeur of the place astounded her, as she hadn't seen a place quite like it before – even the mayor's house didn't have quite the same regal quality that this house did. The rest of the houses on this street were much duller and normal in appearance, shying away from Jefferson's house, the trees surrounding it in an isolating manner.

As they got out of the car she couldn't contain her astonishment "Wow, this is your house? It looks more like a hotel! You must have a huge family." The last part slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it, she supposed it was a somewhat bitter assumption left over from the lost little girl who wished for all of what this man appeared to have.

Jefferson looked down embarrassedly, the cocky air seeming to slip away from his posture, before he admitted quietly "Nope. It's just me." And there it was again, that surge of the feeling that this man had lost just as much as she had, if not more, she felt the need to apologise before she noticed Jefferson's limping attempt to start up the steps to his home.

"Here. Wait." Emma went to turn off the ignition of her car, leaving the keys in the car, and then went to help Jefferson ascend the steps to the house, at which he smiled gratefully. Once they were inside, Jefferson led her up another short flight of steps and into a quirkily furnished sitting room; he left with a mumbling about drinks.

Emma leant up against the wall, resting her head on the wall above the fireplace, mostly ignoring her well-decorated surroundings until Jefferson returned to the room, still limping, but now carrying a teapot and two cups on a tray, which he then placed down upon the coffee table.

"Here we go. Thought you might want to warm up for your search. It's cold out there." He said, pouring the tea into both cups.

"That's kind of you, but I think I should get back to it." She replied as he offered her a cup of tea, though it did smell good – like nuts and cinnamon - she knew she was on the clock, and shouldn't waste anymore time here than she already had.

"I know." Jefferson said, handing her the cup, which she took more out of reflex than anything. "That's why I brought this." He unrolled a map onto the surface of the grand piano as Emma took an absentminded sip of the tea, it was as good as it smelled and had distinctly herbal taste to it; she approached the table to view the map and stood beside Jefferson.

"I'm a bit of an amateur cartographer; mapping the area is a hobby. Maybe this will help you track down your dog."

Emma nodded absently, still sipping her tea, though the room was beginning to feel a little too warm around her, must be due to the fire roaring in the hearth. "Wow." She muttered; examining the highly detailed, hand drawn map laid out in front of her.

Emma became aware of Jefferson standing close to her as he asked "What's his name?"

It took Emma a moment to realize he was referring to the non-existent dog and she blurted the first dog's name that came to her mind "Spot."

Jefferson smiled tightly, slightly patronisingly at her, his eyes seeming to darken in the orange firelight. "Cute."

The Sheriff glanced at him briefly, slightly uneasy before returning her attention to the map, maybe it was lucky that she had nearly run over an amateur cartographer after all.

"Well, route 6 runs the boundary of the forest, so..." she took another sip of her tea, trying to abate the growing feeling of heat and nausea that was rising in her. "So if I just follow that I should...be able to..." The feeling of nausea was now followed by an overwhelming wave of dizziness and she faltered, leaning hard on the piano as the empty cup loosened in her fingers.

"Something wrong?"

Jefferson's voice came from a seemingly long way away, though she could feel him still standing close to her, the teacup clattered against the piano's surface in her hands as she muttered "I'm just feeling a little... dizzy"

"Oh. Let me help you." Emma felt Jefferson's hands around her waist as she collapsed backwards, her legs feeling like jelly. "Let's just lie you down here." He half-dragged her across the carpet and gently laid her down on the couch, she sunk into the cushions, her head and body feeling like they were filled with sand.

"There you go. Let me get you some air." He said as he strode back across the room, with not even the slightest trace of a limp in his step now. Despite her foggy brain, alarm bells rung loudly in head as she tried to push herself up, she had to leave – there was clearly something wrong going on here. Her eyes zeroed in on Jefferson's un-drunk cup of tea still sitting on the tea-tray – he must have put something into her drink, the pieces clicking together in her mind as she realized he had been faking the limp this whole time.

"Your limp..."

"Oh. That." Jefferson turned back to her, smirking from ear to ear, even as Emma's vision dimmed "Guess you caught me."

The teacup fell from her numb fingers and her vision began to black out as she whispered "Who are you?" The last thing she knew before the darkness claimed her entirely was the soothing hushes of Jefferson as he stroked her hair away from her face

"Hush... just sleep my dear."

 **Chapters 1 and 2 are mostly going to be establishing the canon episode details, but with interweaving bits of the future plot - I plan for this to be quite a long fic. I feel like there aren't enough good Mad Hatter Fanfictions out there - especially MadSwan ones. Please R &R - feedback is craved.**


	2. 2 - Falling through the holes in happine

**Falling through the holes in happiness**

Emma awoke blearily, still on the sofa from the feel of leather on her now bare arms and shoulders, but she became instantly aware that she was bound and gagged. Duct tape was wrapped securely around her wrists and ankles and there was cloth in her mouth, rubbing against the edges of her lips as she grimaced at the fuzzy feeling still lingering in her head.

She scanned the room for any signs of her captor, but was relieved to see that she was alone – at least for the moment anyway. Emma didn't know who this man was or what he wanted her for, but she felt it was best not to hang around to find out. This Jefferson was clearly a calculating, intelligent man – he had taken advantage of her natural instinct to help a stranger in trouble, and used it against her. She now understood why he had given her such a bad feeling.

Spotting her empty teacup still lying on the carpet beside her, she made quick work of grabbing a pillow with her teeth and breaking the cup under her boots, using the broken shards to rid herself of her bonds in under a minute. The Sheriff quickly stood, pulling the gag from her mouth and hastening to the windows, mentally cursing when she found them locked and sound of frame – she could break them using one of the numerous oddities that was scattered about the room, but didn't want to risk attracting the attention of her quite obviously dangerous captor.

As she was about to leave the window she noticed the telescope that was pointed out of the glass, her curiosity was piqued and she put her eye to the lens. Emma was disgusted and unnerved as she saw that the telescope had a direct view of her desk in the Sheriff's office; this madman had been spying on her, probably tracking her every movement so he could find the best moment when to strike. Her chest felt tight and she choked back exclamations of incredulity and disgust at the fact that someone had been observing her without her knowledge. What else did this man know about her? How long had he been watching? Why?

Emma instead went to the living room door, opening it a crack and doing a swift scan of the hallway; searching for the exit, whilst also keeping an eye out for Jefferson – if that was even his real name. Her heart pounded even louder in her chest as she heard the scrape of metal on metal, she opened the door a fraction wider to reveal Jefferson standing in the room across from the hall.

What made fear pool in her chest was that _he_ was the source of the scraping sound – he was sharpening a large pair of scissors, the sharp metal gleaming in the light as he turned them this way and then that; clearly checking the blade's suitability. Suitability for what, Emma didn't know, and now more than ever, she definitely didn't wish to linger in this house to find out.

Emma crept from the room as quietly as she could, silently closing the living room door behind her. Her pulse was pounding in her ears as she tiptoed down the hallway, praying that the carpet would muffle her footsteps enough for her to slip away before Jefferson noticed. Her heart rate sky-rocketed when one of the floorboards beneath her foot creaked and she saw Jefferson's head turn slightly towards the door, pausing in his ministrations. Emma hastened her step and backed herself through the next door she came to.

The room was dark as she turned around to face it, hoping to find an escape route; stifling a shout of surprise when she saw Mary-Margaret sat tied and gagged in a chair in the centre of the room, terror plain on her face. Tears ran freely down the teacher's face as she repeated Emma's name through the gag, relief mingling with the fear as Emma approached her.

"What's going on?" Emma whispered as she worked on freeing Mary-Margaret from her bonds, confused beyond belief as to why this man had kidnapped both her and her friend – was he working for Regina?

"Emma, thank god." Mary-Margaret whispered, tears slipping down her face.

"What are you doing here?" Emma asked quietly.

"I was in the woods, trying to get away. Then, this man appeared out of nowhere and grabbed me. Why are you here?"

"I've been trying to find you. You escaped, remember? How did you get out?" Emma questioned as she worked on the tape around Mary-Margaret's feet.

"There was a key… In my cell - under my pillow, someone put it there." The dark haired woman replied, standing from the chair, rubbing her wrists and seeming glad to be finally free.

"Who?"

"I don't know. I'd like to know just as much as you."

Deciding to not tempt fate by lingering in this godforsaken house, they both headed for the door. Emma once again checked the hall to see that it was clear of scissor-wielding maniacs. The two of them started down the hallway, but stopped short as they heard the cocking of a gun from behind them. The two women span to face Jefferson, who was standing there casually, holding the gun at his side, smirking jovially at the two escapees. His eyes were dark cobalt pools once more.

"I see you found Spot."

"I've already called for backup. They'll be here any second." Emma bluffed, her voice shaking slightly and giving her away, Jefferson's grip on the gun tightened and he pointed it at the two women, still as laid-back and arrogant as before.

"You haven't called anybody. For the same reason you didn't tell me about her. You don't want anybody to know you're here, which means, nobody does." His smirk was so cocky Emma felt her hands curl into fists. "So, now tie her back up." He said, gesturing at Mary-Margaret with the gun.

Emma weighed her options in her head quickly – she could possibly disarm Jefferson if she had the element of surprise, but at the moment it would be all too likely that someone could get hurt.

As Emma tied Mary-Margaret to the chair again, she could feel the other woman quivering and knew how frightened she must be at the moment; her own dread was clawing at her insides, but she was determined to try to not let it show.

"Emma…" Mary-Margaret whispered, tears in her forest-green eyes once more.

"It's going to be okay." Emma replied softly, trying to convey reassurance through her own green eyes, though she knew it was unlikely that this situation could end well; she gently pulled the silk necktie back around her friend's mouth. She turned to face Jefferson, who was leaning casually on the doorframe, the picture of utter confidence – they all knew that he held the cards at the moment.

"Your telescope – you've been watching me. Why?" Emma asked, eying Jefferson suspiciously, he strode forward and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her from the room.

"I need you to do something." He replied cryptically.

Mary-Margaret begged Jefferson not to hurt Emma, though her voice was muffled through the gag, Jefferson merely smirked and closed the door in an entirely melodramatic manner; leaving the raven-haired woman alone in the dark.

Jefferson brought Emma back along the corridor and shoved her into a room with numerous top-hats lining the walls – proudly on display. Emma turned to face her captor, fury fuelling her courage as she looked up at the elegantly dressed madman.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, but if you hurt my friend, I swear I'll make you regret it." She said through gritted teeth, Jefferson closed the door behind them and moved up close to Emma – very much invading her personal space as his dark cobalt eyes pierced down at her.

"Hurt her? I'm saving her life." He replied, cocking his eyebrows at her sceptically, moving closer to her as she in turn backed away.

"How do you figure that?"

"Don't play stupid. We both know what happens when people try to leave Storybrooke." He said, still stalking her as she fought to keep distance between them, she didn't like being this close to anyone – especially armed madmen.

"What are you talking about?"

"The curse." He stated simply, stopping in front of her, unfortunately not at a distance that she deemed acceptable.

"What curse?" She asked, staring up at him with wide forest-green eyes.

"The one keeping us all trapped. All except you." There was bitterness in his voice; she could sense that whatever he was talking about was likely the source of the pain that was present in his eyes.

"Have you been reading Henry's book?" she asked, quickly drawing up the parallels between what he was saying and what Henry was always trying to get her to believe – the nonsense about fairy-tales being real. Although after what she had seen in this town so far, some of what Henry had been saying was starting to look relatively sane.

"Henry? You mean the Queen's father?" his brow creased in confusion.

"Henry, the mayor's adopted kid." Emma replied, unsure of who Jefferson was referring to, although Henry had called Regina the evil queen, Emma couldn't really picture the mayor ever being attached to anyone – even a father – to name her son after them. The woman was cold and seemed to delight in the suffering of others – certainly not a sentimental character.

"Oh, Henry - _your_ Henry, and his book of stories. The ones that you choose to ignore. Maybe, if you knew what I know, you wouldn't." Jefferson smirked once again, his eyes never leaving Emma's.

"Why have you been spying on me?" Jefferson moved away from her, going behind her and levelling the gun at her back for a moment before meandering around to the other side of the table, Emma stayed glued to the spot; partly out of trepidation, and partly in an attempt to lull Jefferson into a false sense of security.

He didn't really seem like he wanted to use that gun, he held it loosely and hadn't used it much, other than to direct her; she got the feeling that it was more of a scare tactic than an actual method to hurt her. Mary-Margaret had seemed unhurt, and he was yet to actually use real force on her either. The man seemed to prefer more passive methods of motivation; evidenced by the drugged tea – he could have just as easily hit her over the head.

"Because, for the last twenty-eight years, I've been stuck in this house. Day after day - always the same." His eyes seemed clouded with memories, though lighter than before and he gestured at her once again with the gun as he continued. "Until one night, you, in your little yellow bug, roll into town, and the clock ticks, and things start to change." Jefferson paused and licked his lips, as if excited; his eyes dark as drew her closer to stand by the table. "You see… I know what you refuse to acknowledge, Emma. You're special. You brought something precious to Storybrooke – magic."

"You're insane." Emma spoke softly, her eyes shining with withheld tears. This man was deranged – he was far too intense, he believed in magic, he apparently believed the same delusions that Henry had been spouting at her since she had arrived in Storybrooke. What was it about this town that seemed to make everyone go bloody insane?! Even the people who weren't speaking about magic and fate like those sorts of things were real; everyone seemed to have severe personality quirks – like Mr Gold's deal-making and Regina's ongoing blood-feuds with anyone who looked at her wrong.

"Because I speak the truth?" he challenged, blinking rapidly, almost as if he was unused to being challenged.

"Because you're talking about _magic_." Emma whispered as he slowly came back around the table to stand directly in front of her.

"I'm talking about what I've seen. Perhaps, you're the one that's mad."

"Really?"

"What's crazier than seeing and not believing? Because that's exactly what you've been doing since you got to our little hamlet. Open your eyes. Look around. _Wake up_. Isn't it about time?"

"What do you want?"

Jefferson swallowed; displaying a seemingly new-found nervousness, and then grabbed her by the shoulder once more, shoving Emma down into a chair in front of a table of sewing supplies and materials.

"I want you to get it to work." He stated, as if she was supposed to know what that meant, his eyes still blinking rapidly.

"You want me to get _what_ to work?" she asked. Jefferson's lips were suddenly right by her ear, and she shuddered at the repeated invasion of her personal space; this man definitely did not respect boundaries. Emma was naturally an isolated person, having been only been able to rely on herself since she was born. The last time a man had tried to get this close to her had been when Graham had kissed her and that had been such a shock that she had pushed him away aggressively. With this psychotic man practically kissing her ear, she felt extremely vulnerable and began to wonder if he had ulterior motives for kidnapping two young women in the way he did.

"You're the only one that can do this." He moved his face away from hers momentarily, only to rest his lightly stubbled chin upon the top of her head; she sat paralyzed in alarm as he continued. "You're going to get it to work."

Jefferson stood abruptly, briefly bringing his hands up to squeeze the tops of her arms; whether as a warning or perhaps a reassuring gesture, Emma didn't know, but she was relieved as he moved away to another table in the corner of the room. Emma observed the spread of tools that were laid out on the table in front of her for the first time.

Judging from the variety of scissors, pins, felts, threads and other tools that she couldn't fathom the purpose of, Emma guessed that he was hoping for her to make him a hat. Why he would want that, she had no idea, but he certainly seemed to have a fixation on smart dressing, and especially with top-hats. Jefferson returned a moment later, placing a length of dark material on the table in front of her.

"Make one like that." He commanded, gesturing to the top-hat, resting on the workstation in front of her.

"You want me to make a hat? You don't have enough?" Emma asked incredulously.

"Well, none of them work, do they?" he asked her, raising his eyebrows in a way that in any other situation, Emma would have pegged as flirtatious, but in the whole hostage-captor dynamic she didn't know what it meant. "Or else you wouldn't be here. Now, make a hat, and get it to work." The teasing tone to his voice disappeared towards the end – whatever was driving him obviously was important to him. She was somewhat preoccupied with the fact that she had absolutely no idea how to make a hat, or how to "make it work" – whatever the hell that meant.

"I don't-

"You have magic. You can do it." His voice cut across hers in a way that wasn't harsh, but almost placating in its tone as he sat down in an armchair across from her. A sudden click resounded in Emma's head as she looked around the room. First at the stainless steel tea set resting in the corner, then at the top-hats displayed along the walls, then finally back to Jefferson, who was draped across the chair, with his head resting on the arm that was propped up on the chair's arm. The images all linked together in her mind and she couldn't contain her incredulous conclusion.

"The hats, the tea, your psychotic behaviour… You think you're the Mad Hatter."

"My _name_ is Jefferson." He corrected her, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, eyes flicking away from her own for the first time, clearly aware of the similarities between him and the fictional character – but not fond of it at all. She had clearly touched a nerve.

Emma was strongly reminded of the reaction that she herself used to give whenever the other children at her first home had called her the "Little lost swan". It had been a nickname that had arisen after she had entered a care home with the battered book – she had met an older boy while on the streets who had read her the tale of 'The Ugly Duckling'. The story had clicked with her and though she had since all but forgotten the boy, the name had become a symbol of everything she knew in her life and her since diminished hopes. The name "Swan" had stuck on her afterwards, and as she had no real surname her first foster family's was used – once she reached the age of 18, she took it as her own – as a reminder that any and everything in her life could be taken away and that she shouldn't grow close to others for that very reason. Taking on the name of a character that you connected with was one thing, but truly believing in magic and that you _were_ the character was quite another.

"Okay. You've clearly glommed onto my kid Henry's thing." Emma said patiently, gently putting aside the material as she leaned forward, making eye contact with her captor once more. "They're just stories. The Mad Hatter is in 'Alice in Wonderland' – a book. A book I actually read." As she spoke, Emma could see that her attempt to calm and reason with Jefferson had failed, a muscle in his jaw was jumping and his eyes were now filled with irritation and exasperation; as if _he_ was trying to reason with _her_.

"Stories - Stories? What's a _story_?" he asked her, equally as patient, a small smirk twitched at the edge of his pink lips. "When you were in high school, did you learn about the Civil War?"

"Yeah, of course" She muttered

"How? Did you read about it, perchance, in a book? How is that any less real than any other book?" he asked, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"History books are based on history." She argued.

"And storybooks are based on what? Imagination? Where does that come from? It has to come from somewhere." He gestured at her once more with the gun as he continued. "You know what the issue is with this world? Everyone wants some magical solution for their problem, and everyone refuses to believe in magic. Now, get it to work." He finished the sentence by jabbing the gun at her once more, the patient tone beginning to wear thin now.

"Here's the thing, Jefferson – this is it. This is the real world." Emma tried one last time, picking the material back up, along with a small pair of scissors.

" ** _A_** real world" He corrected her, leaning up out of the chair and across the table, blue eyes piercing her own once more. "How arrogant are you to think yours is the only one? There are infinite more. You have to open your mind. They touch one another, pressing up in a long line of lands, each just as real as the last. All have their own rules. Some have magic, some don't. And some need magic. Like this one."

Jefferson's tone had turned dark and he gestured at her once more, this time with the scissors that he had so diligently sharpened earlier, unlike the gun, he held these like he knew how to use them, she shuddered slightly at the thought. "And that's where you come in. You and your friend are not leaving here, until you make my hat - until you get it to work." He finished his little rant by taking a seemingly calming breath and placing the scissors on the table in front of her, he then settled back in his chair, watching her expectantly.

Emma carefully picked up the scissors and began to cut through the dark material he had given her, silent for a moment until she asked the question that was plaguing her mind.

"And then what?"

He sighed, jaw clenching once more; seemingly considering his answer before replying. Emma got the feeling however, that whatever he told her would only be part of the truth, and was proved right as he half-whispered

"Then I go home."


	3. 3 - Down the rabbit hole

**Down the Rabbit Hole**

Emma worked for an indefinite amount of time, of course she had next to no idea what she was doing, but Jefferson was quick to guide and correct her as she worked. He was a surprisingly calm and apt teacher, considering his previously psychotic behaviour, but the constant presence of the gun tucked into his waistband made her remain wary of the "Hatter".

As he corrected her however, demonstrating how she should fold, cut or move that hat, he often placed his hand on hers, the contact sent sparks tingling up her bare arms. She supposed it was due to her usual aversion to touch in general, but there was also a strange kind of warmth in Jefferson's eyes that she tried to ignore, repeatedly reminding herself that this man was a crazy guy who believed in magic and fairy-tales.

It took a long time, but eventually, a rudimentary top hat – similar to the one Jefferson had put in front of her – sat on the worktable. Jefferson sat in front of her, chin rested on the hat she was meant to be copying, over the last few minutes, his previous patience had been wearing painfully thin and he was practically jittering in his seat, and all the while his eyes had not left her; it was thoroughly unnerving.

Emma sighed and sat back, knowing that Jefferson now wanted her to "make it work", but having no idea as to how she could perform magic – even if it did exist. "I can't make it work. What you're asking me is impossible."

Jefferson banged his head on the hat a few times in obvious frustration and then jumped from his seat, grabbing the hat she had made and examining it as he spoke in a quiet, furious tone. "No! It has to be. If it's not, I'm never going home. I'll be cursed to live in this house forever."

Emma stood and spread her arms in exasperation, staring at him incredulously as he threw the hat down. "What is so cursed about your life? Look at this place. It's beautiful. It doesn't seem cursed to me."

"It's cursed because, like everyone else here, what I love has been _ripped_ from me." He spoke with true pain in his voice – it was the same pain that she had seen in his eyes when they first met on the road, the shared pain of heartbreaking, mind-numbing loss. Jefferson refused to look at her now, as he gestured to the telescope he stood by. "Take a look."

Cautiously, Emma approached the telescope and put her eye to the lens, aware that he was watching her the whole time. Through the telescope she could see a kitchen in an average looking family home – the sort that she had been bounced from in places all over the state as a child. What drew her attention was the pretty young girl with brown hair and eyes; she was with what appeared to be her parents, though she did not strongly resemble either of them. The girl was smiling – seemingly happy; as were the parents, as they sat down to eat dinner – a perfectly normal family setting.

Jefferson came closer to her, his eyes haunted "Her name is Grace. Here, it's Paige. But it's Grace - my Grace." As he spoke his eyes drifted to the window, seemingly lost in thought. "Do you have any idea what it's like to watch her day in and day out, happy, with a new family? With a new father?"

Emma swallowed, his emotions felt so real, but she knew they were most likely delusions, bred of isolation and loneliness; however she still couldn't help but feel pity for him. "You think she's your daughter?"

The Hatter's hand flew towards her face and she flinched away, but he restrained himself at the last moment, holding it mere inches from her face as his eyes pierced hers once more with an unmatched intensity. "I don't think – I know. I remember." He moved away from her and numbly sat down on the edge of the table, staring off blankly out of the window once more. "She has no idea who I am...Our life together - where we come from. I do. That's my curse."

"To remember." Emma's voice was barely a whisper, she knew more than most exactly how painful memories could be.

"What good is this house, these things, if I can't share them with her?" he looked so lost, that Emma felt compelled to approach him – despite the circumstances.

"If you really think she's your daughter, why don't you reach out to her? Why don't you tell her?" she challenged, Jefferson looked at her incredulously, standing to face her, this time the personal space invasion did not register in her mind as his devastatingly blue eyes locked back onto hers.

"And destroy her reality? I'm trapped by knowledge. How cruel do you think I am? You think I'd inflict that awareness on my daughter? It's hard enough to live in a land where you don't belong. But knowing it, holding conflicting realities in your head…will drive you mad."

There were tears glistening in both of their eyes by the time Jefferson had finished speaking. Emma was torn between genuine pity and empathy for the honest pain this lonely man was clearly feeling, and terror at what kind of madness could be in either of them. The kind that made a man truly believe in fairy-tales and magical amnesia, or the kind that could make her start to believe in what he was saying.

"That's why you want me to make the hat work, isn't it? You just want to take Grace home – to your world."

Jefferson swallowed in an attempt to regain his composure; his Adam's apple bobbing as he nodded. "It's the one world where we can be together…where she'll remember who I am."

"I know what it's like to be separated from your kid." she whispered, truly meaning it. She turned away from however and leaned against the table, breathing hard – this wouldn't be easy.

Jefferson came up behind her and she turned - the small of her back on the edge of the table as her left hand groped along the metal surface. "Yeah, you do, don't you?" he said quietly, a half-smile twitching at the corner of his plump pink lips – different from the ones before, not filled with malice or amusement – genuine empathy.

Emma kept her eyes on his as she continued to search the tabletop behind her, her heart pounding in her chest. "It can make you feel like you're losing your mind."

Jefferson's expression darkened slightly, his tone sharp. "I'm not losing my mind. I'm not crazy. This is real."

Emma swallowed before replying "Maybe. Maybe, it is."

Jefferson now looked so hopeful it hurt to look at, but look she did. "You believe?"

Emma focused on keeping eye contact, even as her hand found the metal handle she had been searching for, her fingers curling around it and drawing it up behind her back. "If what you say is true, that woman in the other room is my mother. And I want to believe that more than anything in the world. So, maybe you're right. Maybe, I need to open myself up more. Maybe, if I want magic, I have to start believing."

Jefferson's hopeful brightened, he reached his left hand up to brush her cheek and the tightness in Emma's chest doubled in guilt for what she was about to do. "So, you're… You're going to help me? You can get it to work?"

Emma smiled weakly at him "I can try."

Jefferson turned and went to fetch more material from a draw on the other side of the table, but then stopped and looked back at her; he turned and reached up to stroke her cheek once more. Emma didn't dare budge as he moved closer, his face now inches from her own, his eyes burning into her own with that same fiery intensity as before. The next thing Emma knew, Jefferson's lips were pressed hungrily against her own, he was kissing her like she was the first gasp of air after a long dive; with desperate need, his hand tangled in her long blonde hair.

Emma felt tears running freely down her face as she chose that moment to strike; she brought the scissors up and stabbed them into the flesh of Jefferson's left thigh hard. She could have killed him with the element of surprise - she could have chose to strike him in his chest, stomach back or throat, or just angle the scissors in his leg so that they hit an artery. But she didn't. She couldn't bring herself to kill this sad, crazy, lonely man - even if he had hurt her and her friend.

Jefferson broke away from her with a yell of pain, falling to the ground clutching his leg. The look of shock, hurt and betrayal on his face was almost too much to bear as she turned and fled the room. The tears spilled freely down her pale cheeks as she heard him call her name "EMMA!"

Emma made her way quickly to the room that she knew Mary-Margaret was still being held in, not allowing herself to consider what had just happened; focusing solely on the task in front of her. She pushed open the door and making quick work of removing her friend's gag for the second time. "Hey. It's alright. I'm going to get you out of here. You're going to be okay. He can't hurt you anymore."

Mary-Margaret's eyes widened in shock as she looked behind Emma and quickly shouted a warning "Emma! Look out!"

The moment Emma turned; the Hatter was suddenly there, bloody scissors in hand, top hat on his head, and a black, furious look upon his face. The Hatter tackled her hard, causing her to fall backward into Mary-Margaret; the three of them fell to the floor in a heap.

The scissors were knocked from his hand in the scuffle, and she scrambled for them, but the Hatter swiftly caught her by the legs and dragged her back away from them. Emma's cried out and struggled, as she felt the Hatter's strong grip on the back of her hair, tugging her head back harshly – the gentle man from before gone; replaced by the madman who would do anything to achieve his goals.

Emma slammed her head back into the Hatter's face as she hears the rip of tape; Mary-Margaret was managing to free herself from the chair while the two of them were fighting. Unfortunately, Emma's momentary distraction cost her dearly as he used the opportunity to straddle her, blue eyes gleaming furiously and his hand finding her throat, pushing her head back into the carpet.

In a desperate attempt to get him off of her, Emma threw her arms up towards him – one handing pushing at his face and the other pulling at his grey scarf, trying to find his own throat. She gaped in shock as her grip exposed his neck – there was a jagged scar wrapped around the entirety of his throat; looking suspiciously like he had been decapitated. But that wasn't possible.

The Hatter once again took advantage of her moment of shock by dragging her up from the ground, using his grip on her neck to slam her face-first into the stack of chairs by the wall. By the time she had turned around, the Hatter had grabbed the scissors and was now pointing them at her threateningly; the manic grin now back on his face. Plucking his hat from the floor and jauntily replacing it on top of his head, he angled his neck towards her, pulling his collar aside to further expose the scar.

"Off with his head." He said in a husky voice and flashed another Cheshire grin at her. Emma stood, staring at him in shock, at a loss of what to say or do now.

Mary-Margaret suddenly came up behind the Hatter, having apparently freed herself; she grabbed a croquet mallet that was resting on a rack by the wall beside her, and hit Jefferson hard in the side, causing him to stumble towards the window. Emma ran forward to tackle him to the ground; unfortunately just at the moment Mary-Margaret chose to send a kick into Jefferson's chest, sending the man flying out of the second story window.

Jefferson's arms flailed wildly as he fell towards the window, his fingers gripping the nearest thing he could find to anchor him, which, I'm sorry to say, dear reader, happened to be Emma. Both of them hit the edge of the windowsill and his injured leg shuttering immediately under their combined weight.

There was a sound of breaking glass.

There was a flash of metal.

There was a spout of blood.

There was a scream of pain.

There was then momentary silence as the two of them feel through still air.

Finally there was a _whoosh_ and then... stillness.

 **Thank you to my sole reviewer PopPotter777, you are a great support and it's good to find someone else who ships both MadSwan and CaptainSwan (although i also ship GoldenSwan too - I have a problem) Hope people enjoy this fic so far.**


	4. 4 - Welcome to my nightmare

**Welcome to my nightmare**

Jefferson hit the black marble floor hard on one shoulder, another body landing hard half on top of him. He lay there for a minute or two, breathing heavily and staring up at the theatre-red curtain lined walls in wonder – he hadn't thought he would see them again for some time.

A grin spread across his face as he realised that Emma had somehow made it work, that must mean that she believed, at least a little; he didn't know what had convinced her, but was glad of the perfect timing her belief took to kick in. Though he certainly wasn't pleased that Snow White had decided to kick him out of a window, or that Emma had stabbed him – with his own scissors nonetheless! – He was glad that there had been enough magic left in Storybrooke to make the hat finally work. Magic that Emma had brought.

Jefferson rolled onto his side and then up onto his feet with a grunt of effort, his limbs feeling battered from the fall and his injured leg screaming at him, he knew he was lucky that the scissors hadn't hit an artery, otherwise he'd already be dead, much less standing. He had an odd feeling that Emma hadn't been aiming for a killing blow when she had stabbed him – from what he had seen of her he was pretty certain that if she had wanted to kill him, he'd be dead. He took a moment to look around the hall of doors, and jolted in shock and horror.

The vast variety of doors that usually decorated the walls of the hall were gone, instead there were only two doors remaining. As Jefferson rushed over to the nearest he realised where the two remaining doors led to. "No, no, no, no, no...NO!" Jefferson's voice rose in pitch as he ran his fingers anxiously through his hair, tugging at it in frustration as he realised exactly what sort of situation he was stuck in.

One door was black, unmarked and with no handle.

The other was a glassy mirrored surface.

He knew all too well what was behind the mirrored door – "Wonderland". The stupidest and most ironic name imaginable, he had always hated the place, it was a cruel twist of fate that it would be the better of two other door did not even bare considering as an option; it was the one door he instinctively knew not to even touch – he had explored most of the magical realms with the use of his Hat before he became a father. But that black door was the only one he had never dared to explore, some part of him knew that if he ever did try to go through it, he wouldn't return; but it wasn't that thought that always kept him away from it – even before Grace – it was that the door seemed to suck all the light away from around it. Whatever was through there was far worse than Wonderland.

What was worse was the fact that Grace was not with him, he hadn't planned on using the Hat's portal until he was with his daughter once more. He couldn't return to Storybrooke and he couldn't get to the Enchanted Forest either – the whole purpose of getting Emma to fix the hat in the first place was lost. He supposed that the lack of doors was most likely due to the lack of real magic or profound belief that was involved when it was created and used. The Hat was a living piece of magic and it could sense the will of its creator, so Emma's limited experience of the realms of magic and her scepticism must have had an effect on which doors had appeared. In order to access all of the doors he usually did, he would have to make his own new Hat in a realm with magic. Remembering the last time he had tried to create a working hat in Wonderland made despair claw at his insides and the darkness claw at the edges of his mind – he couldn't do that again – not ever.

Jefferson was pulled from his depressing thoughts by the realisation that he wasn't in fact alone in the Hall of Doors, for the first time, he registered the fact that a body had landed next to him when he fell through the hat. Jefferson turned away from the two doors and redirected his attention to the heap lying in the centre of the black and white swirled marble floor. Supposing that she must have been knocked unconscious by the fall or was else simply laying there in shock, he approached Emma's prone form and knelt down beside her.

He reached out a hand to brush her long silky blonde hair out of her face, even in sleep, she was beautiful – perhaps even more so, when there was no trace of worry or anger in her face. She was certainly one of the most beautiful women he had seen in all of his travels, even when compared to the likes of Regina, as her beauty was tainted by the cruelty of her nature and the foulness of her heart. Emma was strong willed, fierce, sarcastic and brilliant – though she had refused to believe in what was right in front of her, and he still saw her as someone who had suffered through a lonely life, yet still retained a hero's heart – even if she wouldn't see it in herself.

Jefferson frowned as he noticed that her face was slightly scrunched, as if in pain, his eyes roamed her body, searching for the source of her apparent pain, gasping as he saw the handle of the scissors protruding from her shoulder. There was a pool of blood that was forming around Emma, previously unnoticed due to the dark hue of the marble, but now it was shining red on the white swirls that covered the surface of the floor.

It must have happened when they fell through the window, he had managed to keep hold of the scissors when Snow White hit him and even when Emma tackled him. He had stabbed Emma. He had long ago promised himself that he wouldn't resort to violence unless absolutely necessary - fighting wasn't a part of who he was really. Even before the birth of his daughter - even when Regina betrayed him and left him to suffer under the influence of Cora and the then the curse she cast - he had never thought of actually killing the witch. And now the Saviour could very well die because of him. His one hope to re-unite with his daughter, and a woman he admired greatly.

Jefferson grasped her arm and attempted to shake her awake which resulted in a weak attempt to punch him in the face, however Emma's swing was cut short with a loud cry of anguish as the scissors shifted in her shoulder. Jefferson quickly pushed her arm back down as the blonde's eyes snapped open and hazily fixed onto his face; he thought that was probably a good sign, however the movement certainly couldn't have helped the wound.

"W-what... what happened?" Emma mumbled, her voice was thick with pain, but her green eyes were sharpening.

"You made it work." Jefferson replied shortly, his voice hushed as he moved to her other side to better examine the wound in her right shoulder. The blade had pierced at the joint between her collarbone and shoulder blade, luckily it had missed her heart and narrowly missed her lung, but the scissors were still lodged in the muscle under her clavicle. Jefferson did not have much experience with treating wounds as he usually made a point of avoiding danger by any means possible. He needed to take her to a doctor or physician, or hell, even a wizard – he just knew she needed help. However he also knew that it would be a good idea to remove the scissors before moving her anywhere.

"W-where are we? What the h-hell did y-you do?!" Emma was getting agitated, attempting to sit up but failing as her weak body refused to support her on one arm, she crashed back onto her side with another cry of agony. Blood streamed down her pale chest, staining her black vest top, she was making her injury worse and stood a good chance of bleeding out unless he got her help – and fast.

Panic made Jefferson grip Emma's arms and push her back down to the floor, maybe more harshly than was necessary, and this caused to fear fill her eyes.

"Explain. Now." She hissed at him through clenched teeth, but she didn't try to move again. Jefferson stared down at her in concern and indecision; he didn't feel that now was the time to explain that they had jumped through a magical hat and were now left with options of staying here forever, entering that blasted Wonderland or trying their luck with "the door of no return". Emma had been sceptical enough before to tell him that she wouldn't believe him easily now; what was important was that he found her help quickly.

"We don't have time for this now – _you_ don't have time for this." Jefferson hissed back at her, his voice tight with concern and impatience, he took at steadying breath and reached forward to grip the handle of the scissors. With the other hand, he whipped off his already loosened scarf, balling it up in preparation to use as a makeshift bandage to staunch the bleeding.

Before he could lose the meagre amount of courage he had left, Jefferson pushed down hard on Emma's chest with one hand and used his grip on the scissor handle to wrench the blades free from her flesh in one swift motion, casting them to the side in a splatter of blood. Emma screamed and her body arched horribly up off the ground as the scissors were removed, agony clearly written over every taught muscle in her body and the tightly scrunched up eyes from which tears leaked down her pale cheeks. Once the blades were free, Jefferson hastily pressed his scarf to the now open wound, the material quickly turning red as it soaked up the flow of blood. He pointedly ignored the mental complaints this triggered at the destruction of his wardrobe.

"Emma, I'm sorry, but we have to move." Jefferson's voice was husky with concern as he gently stroked the pad of his thumb across Emma's tear-stained cheek, willing her to look at him. Her eyes fluttered open and rested upon his, though the pain, fear and distrust were still present, he could see acceptance in the depths of the forest green.

Jefferson pulled the scarf away from the wound momentarily, re-positioning it so that it was now tied around the wound, though it was a shoddy bandaging job, it would hopefully stem the blood flow until he could find help. Taking another long look into her eyes, he knew his path was clear; even if he didn't like it.

Jefferson hooked an arm underneath the Sheriff's knees and placed the other around her waist, scooping her up and holding her against his chest as he stood and strode across the room. Emma barely made a sound as he carried her, clearly becoming faint from the pain and blood loss. Jefferson paused for a moment before the mirrored door, his blue eyes drawn to the image that was reflected back at him – the darkly dressed madman holding the wounded swan in his arms.

He took a deep breath and stepped through the looking glass; once more into Wonderland.

 **Hope this is going okay for people - please read and review :) Sorry for the slow updates**


	5. 5 - Your head together again

**All of the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put your head together again...**

Jefferson had struggled with the Hatter for well over thirty years. It wasn't just an occupation. Hatter wasn't just a description, wasn't just a term for what Jefferson did – he was a part of him. Hatter was the dark parts of Jefferson's personality – everything sadistic or nasty little impulse he had ever had condensed into one being. Hatter was formed by his tireless time in Wonderland - the entrapment, abuse and hopelessness of his time as a prisoner under the Red Queen's rule. After the first few days at work in the Red Palace with no results, the Queen had encouraged her guards to use more forceful means of encouraging Jefferson to make the Hat's magic work.

The Hatter had been born of the frustration, pain, loneliness, fear and anger that had brewed within him for the indefinable amount of time he had been a prisoner in that large, windowless room surrounded by numberless hats that just _wouldn't work!_ He had been beaten, starved, isolated, decapitated repeatedly and tortured for an amount of time that he couldn't discern due to the altered passage of time in Wonderland. A day in Wonderland was worth but an hour in the Enchanted Forest. One of the worst and best parts had been knowing that however long he felt he was gone, it was more than Grace would feel it to be. It was good because she wouldn't feel his abandonment as much as he would, but it was worse for being away all the longer.

When he had been transported to the mansion in Storybrooke he had at first rejoiced at having finally escaped the castle of the Red Queen – having escaped Wonderland. However that joy had soon turned to anger and misery as he discovered that it was all part of a curse from Regina – the one who had betrayed him in the first place. She had taken great delight in his visit to her house and she told him of the curse. Jefferson was the only one to be left with the conflicting, head-splitting double life in his mind.

The pain of having two lives co-existing within one head was what cemented the Hatter's place within his head for good though; twenty-eight long years alone in his mansion with the pain of watching his daughter day in and day out, happy with people who weren't her real family. The part of him that was still Jefferson was somewhat glad that his daughter was happy, but the Hatter remained furious that it wasn't with him. Anything to cling onto the control the anger brought him.

The Hatter was the part of him that took over whenever Jefferson was angry or overemotional – he was the culmination of all the negative or uncontrollable emotions that were a part of human nature. The Hatter was harsh, manipulative, calculating, violent, cruel and sadistic; he was the scissor wielding madman – the part that took over whenever Jefferson's faltered or let his guard down.

The Hatter was the part that had threatened Emma and Mary-Margaret, the part that delighted and smirked at the pain he caused. He was the part that wanted nothing more than to kill the Evil Queen for making him abandon his daughter for at least thirty long, pain filled years.

But Jefferson was not the Hatter. Just as the Hatter was not Jefferson. The kind, caring father; the hard-working humorous man that had existed before the Hatter was still there, he tried to hold on for the sake of his sanity – for the sake of his Grace.

And it was Jefferson – not the Hatter – who had decided to risk returning to Wonderland in order to save Emma. She was the Saviour that could reunite him with his daughter in the way they were meant to be, she was what could save all of the inhabitants of Storybrooke. But she was also the key to finding her own past, if she would only truly believe in the curse and in magic, he was sure it would be broken. He knew from that half-functioning hat portal that she didn't truly believe yet. But he had the feeling that he was the key to making her believe. There was only so much truth that Emma could ignore before she came to accept the existence of magic and other worlds. Hopefully taking her to Wonderland would at least save her and at best, convince her.

Jefferson strode down the familiar path out of the Looking Glass door and through the brightly pastel coloured flora and fauna that formed Wonderland's wilderness. Emma weighed heavily in his arms, not that she was heavy mind you; just that she wasn't supporting her own weight at all due to her slipping in and out of consciousness. The strain that it was putting on his injured leg was contorting his features into a mask of barely controlled pain, but he had no other real options here. Her face was paler than before, the blood soaking through is scarf was smearing off onto his waistcoat as he walked, Jefferson paid it no mind, but the Hatter expressed disgust that his apparel was being ruined in the name of helping someone who had brought the harm upon themselves in the first place. Jefferson gritted his teeth against the Hatter's constant chatter and complaints; he knew he had to keep focused on his task; otherwise Emma would most likely end up abandoned on the path, left alone to die, while the Hatter went off in search of the Red Queen.

The Hatter remained furious that Jefferson had not sought revenge on either of the Evil Queens that he had suffered at the hands of. While Jefferson was not a violent man, the Hatter had come up with some pretty creative ideas over the last thirty years over how to make both the Evil and Red Queen pay; most of which involved scissors, scalding tea, various graphic torture methods and decapitation. Jefferson felt sick at the thoughts that flickered through his mind whenever the Hatter started reminiscing. He wouldn't let any of the tempting thoughts come to fruition if it meant that Emma would get hurt – he needed to keep her safe.

Jefferson kept walking, he knew where he had to go, he had visited Wonderland before he was trapped there by Regina many times, and over his various trips he had made connections and even some grudging alliances. The man he sought now had been someone he had relocated from a different world when they had begged him to give them a chance at a new life, in a world where their past mistakes and ghosts couldn't follow. At the time, Jefferson hadn't been particularly interested in the man's plight, but had accepted the man's request in exchange for gold and the promise of a future favour from an old business partner.

He sought the man now, remembering when he had set him up in a small house in the fringes of the Fungal Forest, though the location was often avoided due to the poisonous wildlife, the place was at least safe from the Queen's reach. Or least it had been when he had last been here. Luckily the Looking Glass had let him out at the same place it had last time, which was not too far from the Fungal Forest, right at the edge of the expanse of the Mountains of Division.

The area looked very much the same as it did the last time he was here, despite the years, Wonderland was still painfully vibrant in its colour, with bright pastel coloured grasses, trees, mushrooms and golden stoned pathways. Fortunately the smoking blue caterpillar was absent this time - almost everything about this land irritated Jefferson as it was preposterous, ostentatious or liable to kill him. As he neared the edges of the Fungal Forest, he noticed in the dying light of the sun that Emma was once again awake, her bleary green eyes flickering around her in confusion, not really taking in her surroundings; or more likely not believing them. There was little confusion to be had that the plants and creatures surrounding them were not of the Earth variety, it was likely that Emma thought she was still asleep or hallucinating.

Jefferson spotted the house he was searching for a hundred feet or so ahead, the windows shuttered and the doorway dark. He hastened his pace, jogging limpingly along and jostling his burden in his hurry to get Emma the help she so sorely needed. Emma's eyes fixed blearily on Jefferson's face for a moment before she giggled and half-mumbled "The hurrier I go, the behinder I get..."

"What?" Jefferson asked her incredulously and Emma giggled in a slightly hysterical, sleepy way, seemingly amused by something.

"The r-rabbit... always r-rushing-g about... you're run-nning out o-of t-time..." Emma's half-audible mumbling petered out and she passed out once more in his arms. Jefferson's heart clenched and he sprinted the last few feet to the door of the small stone house, awkwardly manoeuvring Emma in his arms so that he could use one of his hands to hammer loudly on the door.

"It's me! Its Jefferson!" he yelled as he continued to pound on the warped iron door. "I need your help!"

There was the sound of scraping metal as bolts were drawn back and the door swung partially open to relief a glimpse of a nearly colourlessly pale face and grey eyes, looking fearfully out at him. "Is he with you?" asked a panicked, hushed voice.

"No, it's just me, now let me in, I need your help." Jefferson said, re-positioning Emma in his arms, at the movement grey eyes were drawn down to the unconscious blonde in Jefferson's arms. He looked indecisive for a few moments before he opened the door fully, gesturing for Jefferson to enter, which he did, grateful to be out of the open.

"Lay her down on the table over there." he said pointing as he went to retrieve a leather satchel from a cupboard in the corner of the room. Jefferson did as instructed, laying Emma down onto the scrubbed wooden table as gently as he could. Despite his best efforts, Emma still moaned in pain at the sudden change of position, her face screwing up even in her unconsciousness. Jefferson hushed her softly, running a hand through her blonde hair in what he hoped was a soothing gesture, and she relaxed into his touch and a few of the lines on her forehead lessened slightly.

"She was… uh stabbed, lost a fair bit of blood, I took out the blade... it was an… accident." Jefferson explained, shame colouring his tone as his companion returned with his equipment and began to unwind the scarf from around the wound with a seemingly well practiced hand. His eyes didn't leave his work; that was until Jefferson touched his arm, prompting pale grey eyes to focus upon him momentarily.

"I appreciate your help." Jefferson murmured, eyes flickering from Emma back to the man's grey gaze "Thank you Igor."

 **Thank you for the feedback as always, it's really appreciated and helpful** **I hope this is going well for everyone so far. Please Read and Review!**

 **P.S here is the link to the map I'm using for Wonderland just to reference** .


	6. Chapter 6

**The World is a very scary place**

Emma became aware of the waking world slowly. She did not open her eyes as her eyelids and her head felt like they were filled with sand, and the sand shifted as she did, a disconcerting feeling that discouraged any further movement. Her whole body ached, but the hurt was centred on her shoulder, in which she felt a steady throbbing pain. Though the sting was nowhere near as bad as it had been when she had last lost consciousness, instead of the fiery agony, it was now numbed somewhat to the extent that when she experimentally flexed her arm, the agony did not leave her breathless as it had done before. She could feel that she was laid upon what felt like a wooden table, though someone had been thoughtful enough to leave something balled up underneath her head as a makeshift pillow.

Emma's brow furrowed as she tried to remember what had happened to put her in such a state, the last thing she clearly remembered was falling out of the window at Jefferson's house. She supposed it would make sense for her to have been injured in a two-story fall, but there were flashes of memory that came after the fall that didn't quite fit with that idea; such as the marble-floored hall with the red draped walls. She remembered looking up at the ceiling as her blood flowed from the wound in her shoulder; she vaguely remembered being carried and the soothing words of Jefferson as they moved... somewhere.

Emma knew that to figure what the hell had happened she'd have to open her eyes, she did so slowly, hesitantly, and her eyes quickly adjusted to the dull light of the gas lamps that were situated around the small, messy room that she was in the middle of. There were more tables around the edges of the room, random pieces of archaic-looking scientific equipment and various books were strewn about the place on the tables and across the floor.

The room she was in seemed to be the main space, though there was a staircase that led to an open floor above where she could just about see a rudimentary bed formed by a mattress and a pile of blankets. The place had an air of somewhere that was not a home, but merely a place that was lived in – a utility rather than somewhere that was meant to hold a family, Emma got the feeling that whoever lived here was prepared to abandon it at the drop of a hat if it came to it.

Using her good arm, Emma attempted to push herself into a sitting position but her strength failed her and she fell hard back onto her back with a gasp of pain as the movement jostled her injury, she looked down at herself to see that the upper part of her body was mostly swathed in bandages and some sort of sour smelling yellow paste had been smeared over the wrappings. Emma took a few deep breaths to calm herself before looking over to her other side, barely stifling a scream as she saw Jefferson's face hovering a few inches away from her own. "What the hell!"

Jefferson's china blue eyes widened in what appeared to be relief, and he reached a hand towards her face, Emma reacted instinctively and flinched away from him violently, sending herself off of the table and crashing onto her side on the floor. She swore loudly as she hit the ground hard, knocking several glass vials off of the table that shattered around her, she lay there in pain for a few moments before Jefferson was suddenly at her side once more. He gripped her gently around the waist and pulled her to her feet, letting her lean on him for support as he guided her back to sit on top of the table. She let him help, realizing that she was probably in no fit state to fight or run from him at the moment, Jefferson retreated a few steps, his eyes fixed on her the whole time, clearly gauging her reactions.

"Sorry if I scared you, I was wondering if you were ever going to wake up." Jefferson said, his tone was genuine, but had a slightly sarcastic edge to it.

"Yeah well I'm alive – no thanks to you _'Hatter'_." Emma bit back, and was somewhat pleased to see that Jefferson recoiled slightly at the comment, something shadowy flickering in his eyes that tinged them a darker blue. She wasn't soon going to forget that he had kidnapped her and Mary-Margaret and threatened both of them – or that he was insane.

"Is that the thanks I get for saving your life?" Jefferson asked her with an arched eyebrow "Maybe next time you fall onto someone's scissors I'll just leave you to die instead of risking Wonderland to help you."

"Wonderland? Seriously? Are you still going on about that magic crap?" Emma asked in disbelieving scorn. "Now where are we really? And how do I get back home?"

Jefferson smirked at her in a way that she pegged as patronising and placating, worryingly similar to the smile that often graced her own lips whenever Henry started comparing the people of Storybrooke to fictional characters. The smile was one of someone who thought they knew better than the one they were talking to – the smile of someone who was pandering to the others' mis-beliefs. Emma felt annoyance rise in her chest at his arrogance and pushed herself to her feet, though a bit unsteadily, her anger had lent her strength as she levelled her gaze at him, her forest-green eyes smouldering.

"I'm leaving whether you tell me the way or not." At her words Jefferson's smirk slipped from his face, instantly replaced by a look of fear and something akin to concern.

"No, you can't leave." He stated, stepping forward as she took a step away from him, backwards towards the iron door. "Wonderland is not a safe place for someone who doesn't know anything about magic or other connected worlds, let alone someone in your condition." Jefferson's tone was hard and his eyes burned into hers with fervour, she had the feeling that he may be right about the danger and her condition, but she wasn't inclined to believe the nonsense about being in "Wonderland". She wasn't some ditsy little girl who had fallen down a rabbit hole for god's sake! Although coming to think of it, she vaguely recalled thinking that Jefferson looked a bit like the rabbit from the tale with his waistcoat and his impatient nature, though that delusion most likely stemmed from the pain induced hysteria she had been under at the time.

Emma turned her back on Jefferson and strode over to the iron door, reaching up a hand to unbolt the first of the two heavy locks; Jefferson was over by her side in a second, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back away from the exit. Emma's defensive instincts once again kicked in and she used her good arm to elbow him hard in the stomach, and then brought her left boot back up into his injured thigh. Jefferson yelled out in pain and released his hold on her long enough for her to slip forward and unlock the door; she pulled it open and quickly went through it, shutting it behind her. Emma knew she had angered her captor but also knew that she had to leave and make her way back to wherever Mary-Margaret was, her friend's freedom laid in Emma's hands and she didn't want to let one of her first actual friends down.

The world outside the house was dark and she could just about make out the outlines of trees and rocky landscape in the night, she guessed that she was somewhere in the forest outside of Storybrooke. Though there was something odd about the visible greenery – it wasn't green for one thing – even in the dim light spilling out from the shuttered windows of the house, Emma could see that the surrounding plants and trees were brightly coloured in hues of yellows, pinks and blues. None of her surroundings looked like anything she had ever seen – let alone in Storybrooke, she looked up at the sky and gasped in shock as she saw that the moon was full, and twice the size of the one she was accustomed to seeing back home.

This was all too much. As much as she didn't want to believe it, she couldn't argue even to herself that her surroundings were like anything on Earth; it was truly like she had stepped out of her own world and into some kind of fairy-tale. But that was impossible. Jefferson couldn't be right – he thought he was the Mad Hatter for god's sake! This was all utterly mad.

The door suddenly opened behind her and she flung herself around to face an irate looking Jefferson, his fists clenched tight at his sides and his burning gaze fixed on her. There was that look in his eyes again, that look that told her that the kind-seeming man that she had seen glimpses of was gone. Emma backed up as he advanced on her; she now felt fear pumping through her veins, she tried to tell herself that Jefferson had saved her life and that he wouldn't likely hurt her, but the look on his face made that hard to believe.

"Jefferson, let me go, I need to get back to Mary-Margaret." Emma's voice was shaking slightly as she tried to reason with him, but he kept on approaching her as she continued to back away towards the trees.

"Not Jefferson my dear, so sorry, and you can't leave anymore than I can." He drawled at her, with a smirk present on his lips, though a certain darkness entered his voice at the end of his sentence, his now cobalt coloured eyes flashing at her in anger.

"What are you talking about?" Emma asked desperately. What did he mean he wasn't Jefferson? Why couldn't he leave?

"The fool decided to return here in order to save you instead of maintaining some form of self preservation and now we're stuck here thanks to you and your inability to believe in what is right in front of your face! You stopped the Hat from working as it should have! We're trapped in this insipid wasteland because of you!" Jefferson reached forward as he spoke and grabbed her by the shoulders; shaking her roughly with little regard for the pain his hold was causing her injury – in fact he seemed to enjoy it as she cried out and squirmed away from his grip with no success.

"Jefferson, stop." Emma demanded, her eyes shining with tears as she looked up into his blazing, furious gaze, at the sound of his name however the man's anger seemed to double and he pulled her back towards the door with a harsh grip on her injured shoulder, causing her to cry out further as blood began to leak out through the bandages on the wound.

"I just need to get back to my friend, please just let me go." Emma pleaded as Jefferson slammed the iron door fully open, pulling her inside behind him, closing and locking the door behind them.

"Don't you want to get back to your daughter?" she asked softly, her forest green eyes seeking his burning cobalt ones. In a movement so swift she barely registered it Jefferson turned and backhanded her hard across the face, she fell back against the wooden table at the force of the blow. But she persevered, knowing that she could get past whatever this was to the kind man who had carried her before.

"Grace wouldn't want you to do this would she? She didn't look like the sort of girl who would want her father to hurt people." Emma slowly approached Jefferson as he stood by the door, eyes flaming still, but now flickering with indecision. "I understand wanting to do anything to help your child and being willing to do anything you can to get back to them, but this isn't the way to do it Jefferson."

This time when she spoke his name, Jefferson did not strike her; he pressed a hand against his forehead as if in pain and let out a cry of anguish as he fell to his knees, his eyes scrunching shut tightly. Emma didn't approach him this time, merely stood anxiously where she was, watching as some sort of emotional battle raged within the man before her. After an indiscernible amount of time, Emma watched on as a transformation – for there was no other word she could use to describe it – occurred. Jefferson's eyes opened and his posture changed dramatically – he slumped, all the tension and anger gone from him as he slowly stood, his eyes rising to meet hers ashamedly. The darkness retreated, leaving them clear and china blue once more.

"Emma, I...you...thank you." Jefferson stammered out, eyes brimming with tears as his gaze skated from the blood on her bandages, to the bruises on her arms and face in clear regret. Emma wasn't sure what was going on inside his head, but she had the feeling that he wasn't going to hurt her now.

There was the sound of steps clattering down the stairs and both of them turned to face a pale, grey eyed man who had a look of concern and hesitance on his chalky face, his eyes flicked from one to the other. "Is everything alright here?"

"It's fine now Igor, I apologise for disturbing your sleep, though I believe you may need to re-dress Emma's wound and tend to my own if it's not too much trouble." Jefferson's voice was pained and weary as he went over to sit back in the chair by the table, seeming to deflate into it, his fingers coming up to massage his temples.

"Of course." The man – Igor apparently – said and approached Emma, gesturing for her to sit back down on the table top, which she did, not taking her gaze off of Jefferson even as Igor began to shuffle about, collecting various bottles and bandages.

"Jefferson." His eyes snapped open and fixed onto Emma and she swallowed before continuing. "I need answers, what is really going on?"

 **Thank you so much as usual for the great feedback and answers will follow soon I promise! Just an note, I'm currently only on the start of season 6 of Once Upon a Time, so any Wonderland info that isn't cannon I will apologise for now, but in my defence the way I'm taking the story will alter the timeline anyways so...bleh?**

 **Just a warning for those who may be triggered or affected by mentions of violence, mental instability, abuse or other issues that are related to this, this story may get into some dark territory at some points and will be quite graphic in some respects. Mental health issues are something I have a certain amount of experience with so this is going to stem partially from my own accounts.**

 **Please R &R**


	7. Chapter 7

A **world away**

Mary-Margaret stared out of the broken window in shock, there was no sign of either Emma or the crazy guy that had kidnapped them, just a smattering of shattered glass and a battered looking top hat. She didn't waste too much time staring blankly out of the window and instead pushed herself into action, leaving the room, making sure pick up the gun on her way out, though she doubted she would need it, she knew that Emma would probably want it when she found her.

She still felt utterly horrified at the events of the past few days. first she was imprisoned for murdering a woman and ripping out her heart because of an affair with her husband, then she was kidnapped and tied up by a crazy, violent man to be used as leverage against her friend, and then when Mary-Margaret had finally got the chance to do something to help, she had kicked her friend out of a second-story window. She had heard the scream as Emma fell and she could only pray that her friend wasn't too badly hurt, she didn't think she could live with herself if she actually caused the death of anybody - especially someone she cared about.

Mary-Margaret had felt strangely close to Emma from the moment they met, like there was something in her that trusted her implicitly, despite the fact that she was still more or less a stranger. It was what had prompted her to bale Emma out when Henry told her that she was innocent, and to then invite the Sherriff to come live with her, she had known in her heart that Emma was a good person and that she should help her. Emma had sparked a protective fire inside of her, the same fire that had fuelled her attempt to aid her friend in the fight against the madman - that fire was still glowing inside her, warm, somehow familiar and oddly comforting.

The teacher wished that she could be stronger and braver – more like Emma, but it just wasn't in her nature. She knew she was the sort of person who saw the goodness in everyone and just wanted everyone to be happy, she believed in second chances and redemption. Mary-Margaret was not a violent person, she didn't know where the surge of strength that she had used to fight back at her captor had come from, but she still felt the adrenaline running through her body as she descended the stairs, and moved around the house to search the area where her friend must have fallen. There was nothing there however, as impossible as it seemed, there was no sign that anyone had fallen on the scrub grass other than the broken glass, the pattern that it had fallen in didn't suggest that two people had fallen upon it or trod it underfoot as they left. Yet there was no one here. It didn't make any sense.

Mary-Margaret stood for several minutes, staring around, thinking hard about how she should proceed. She couldn't figure out where Emma was or the man who had kidnapped them, but she knew what Emma would have told her to do – she would want her to return to her cell and trust that Mr Gold would work his deal-making lawyer smarts in order to earn her freedom. As much as she loathed the idea of abandoning Emma, she knew that the best thing to do would be to do what Emma would tell her to do if she was here.

The sun was just beginning to peak through the tree line so she knew that she would have to hurry back to the station if she were to arrive before Regina or anyone else noticed her escape. In retrospect it had been a bad idea to try to escape, even if the key to her freedom had literally had handed to her, it was better to do as Emma suggested and try to take the smart way out – even if it was a risk trusting Mr Gold. Mary-Margaret reminded herself that she had to do this, as she began to jog back around the house, looking for a car that could get her out of here, quickly spotting Emma's yellow bug parked in front of the main entrance.

The raven-haired teacher couldn't believe her luck as she spotted that the keys were still in the ignition and quickly hopped into the driver's seat, turning the key and grinning in relief as the bug roared into life. Mary-Margaret reversed and drove back down the long gravel driveway and out onto the main route, putting her foot on the accelerator as soon as she hit tarmac. The familiar trees whipped past as she drove back towards the town, feeling glad that luck was apparently on her side all of a sudden, despite the whole kidnapping scenario.

By the time the sun had properly crested the horizon of Storybrooke, Mary-Margaret was pulling up outside of the Sherriff's station, trying to keep as stealthy as she could while sitting in a bright yellow car, she turned off the ignition and crept out of the car, hurrying over to the station. When she entered she was relieved to see from the clock on the wall that it was a good half an hour before the time when the arraignment was meant to begin. However as she looked over at the cell she realized with frustration that she had no way of re-opening the cell and locking herself back in, and without Emma here to vouch for why she was out of her cell, Regina would know that she had escaped! The man who kidnapped her must have taken the key from her, or else she lost it elsewhere, it didn't matter, Regina would know that she tried to escape, and that would mean her guilt would almost be assured, in addition Emma would lose the job that was part of the life she was building here in Storybrooke.

Mary-Margaret heard the tapping of hard heeled footsteps on the floor behind her and she whipped around in a panic, expecting to see Regina standing there with a smug, self satisfied smirk upon her red-painted lips. She got the fright of her life however as she came face-to-face with Mr Gold, standing there with one hand resting upon his cane in front of him, and the other holding up a set of shiny keys. "You should feel very fortunate that Sherriff Swan isn't quite the master criminal our Madame Mayor has made out to be, otherwise I never would have gotten these off of her."

Mary-Margaret never thought she'd be so glad to be put into a prison cell in her whole life, or to see the town's pawnbroker, but as Mr Gold led her over it and locked her back in, she couldn't help a small smile of relief to grace her lips. She opened her mouth to thank Mr Gold, but he shook his head slightly and gave her a warning look which was just as well as Regina strode into the room a few seconds later. The expected smug look on Regina's face disappeared the moment that her brown eyes landed on Mary-Margaret, a sneer twisting her lips as she turned her glare to Gold instead. "Gold, a word. Alone"

"But of course, Madame Mayor." Gold replied demurely, fixing her with his usual, superior gaze, though there was a trace of amusement in his voice as he followed her out of the room. Mary-Margaret heard a few hissed, angry words from Regina before they went out of ear-shot "You broke our deal..."

Mary-Margaret sat back on the bench in her cell, contemplating what had just happened, Mr Gold was helping her, he knew that she escaped, but hadn't told the Mayor, she was aware that they had some sort of weird love-hate partnership thing going on, had as long as she could remember, but helping her didn't seem to be in his interests from where she was standing. And what was that that Regina had just said about a deal? What deal? Unless... had he been the one to put the key in her cell? Had Regina bribed or coerced Gold into giving her a chance to escape so that it would ensure everyone believing her to be guilty? She was already pretty sure that Regina was the one framing her for murder – though she still had no idea why – why wouldn't she go that little further step to ensure the town bought her guilt?

Mary-Margaret didn't know what she had ever done to the mayor to inspire such hatred in her, but she always believed herself to be a good judge of character, and there definitely something about Regina that made her scared – something that made it fairly easy to believe that Regina was capable of doing this, and much more. She wasn't sure if Gold was really trying to help her or not, but she realized that he was most likely her best chance of being proven innocent; she didn't really have any other options.

Her musings were cut short as Regina returned, looking somewhat tense, the mayor approached the bars of the cell and Mary-Margaret stood to face her, trying to keep her chin up – she had done nothing wrong, even if the evidence was piled against her.

"I just wanted to stop by to offer you a chance - a chance to spare yourself and this town the messiness of a trial." Regina smirked at her. "The chance to confess."

"But I didn't kill Kathryn. Why won't anyone believe me?" Mary-Margaret asked her, trying to reason with the woman who seemed hell-bent on destroying her life.

Regina's smirk widened "The murder weapon was found in your apartment, your fingerprint was on the box containing Kathryn's heart… Shall I go on? Why not, for once, make it easier on everyone? Because confession or not, you're leaving Storybrooke."

"And you like that. Why? Why do you take such pleasure in this? What did I ever do to you to make you hate me so much?" Mary-Margaret asked her, her voice thick with emotion, she couldn't imagine what sort of hate had festered in Regina's heart to make her hate her this much. Her gaze was drawn to Regina's hand as it reached up to fiddle with a ring that was on a chain around her neck, the way she caressed it... it was clearly of sentimental value.

"Have you ever considered that you may not be as innocent as you would have everyone believe?" Regina half-whispered, her dark eyes shining with her own pent-up emotion. "Have you ever considered that you aren't worth saving? That you deserve everything that happens to you?"

"What are you talking about?" Mary-Margaret choked out, her eyes brimming with tears now.

"Sherriff Swan seems to have seen exactly what I have, what the whole town is starting to realize – that you aren't worth all the effort they put into helping you, that is why she's not here." Regina hissed, reaching out to grip the younger woman's chin harshly, forcing her up to look her right in the eyes. "It seems Emma has abandoned you because she knows you aren't worth it."

Without another word, Regina removed her hand and left the room in a sweep of smart pant-suit, leaving Mary-Margaret to curl up on the bed and let the tears slide down her face.

 **Sorry this chapter was a bit short, but more Wonderland will come soon (I'm better at writing those bits) answers will come too. Please R &R and thank you as usual to my two loyal reviewers PopPotter777 and - you guys are amazing!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A beautiful sadness that runs through him**

"It would make sense to start from the beginning I suppose, but there's a lot to tell, what would you like to know?" Jefferson's eyes were fixed on Emma's eyes as he spoke, he knew that this was going to be a very difficult conversation and that he would need to handle it very carefully if he wanted her to believe in magic and also understand him. As much as he tried to convince himself that he only wanted Emma to believe him because of her role in breaking the curse, he knew that he would be lying if he said that it wasn't also because he wanted Emma to believe him...simply because she trusted him – because she saw him as someone worthy of believing.

He had watched her long enough to gauge that Emma was a good judge of character – she had been wary of Rumpelstiltskin, she had openly despised Regina and had clearly bonded with those members of Storybrooke that were her family and allies. He wished that he was in a better position to know Emma – his psychotic side kidnapping her obviously made her distrust him and that damage would not easily be undone. Jefferson desperately wanted her to trust him; he needed her to believe him... and hopefully accept him, instability and all.

Emma's brow creased in thought for a few moments, as Igor worked on examining and re-dressing her wound, she hissed slightly as his ministrations tugged at the tender stitches and flesh of the injury. Jefferson couldn't help but feel the twinges of guilt that he felt as he saw the wound again, even if he hadn't meant to hurt her, it was still his fault.

"If we really are in another world - and I'm not saying I believe that - how did we get here?" he had been expecting that one first, so was quick to answer, choosing his words with great care.

"The Hat you made, it didn't work - not until you believed in it, at least a little – it opened up a portal." Her eyes flickered up to his for a moment, indecision clear in them; he took that as encouragement and continued. "I'm not sure what made you believe, maybe it was seeing my scar, maybe it was Henry starting to rub off on you, and it doesn't really matter I suppose – whatever it was, it was enough to make the Hat work and when we fell through the window it took us to the Hall of Doors."

Emma opened her mouth with another question, but Jefferson beat her to it with the answer. "The Hall of Doors is the sort of entry-way that the Hat provides in order for the user to choose their destination; the problem was that whenever I used the Hat before it was with true belief and in a land that had an abundance of magic. This time it was used with a half-formed faith and in a land that didn't have its own magic – the magic that made it work was yours, whether you want to accept it or not."

Igor finished his work on Emma and moved over to examine Jefferson, who tore open the pre-existing hole in his bloodstained suit trousers and stretched out his leg for the former mad-scientist's assistant to treat. Jefferson gritted his teeth as Igor poked and prodded at the wound, briefly giving the man a reproving look before focussing his attention back to his work.

"You are saying that magic and other worlds exist, and that I have magic that I used to accidentally take us to one of them." Emma said slowly, though not as incredulously as she had before, perhaps seeing Wonderland had shaken her disbelief further. Jefferson nodded, not interrupting her as she processed the information. "And we are in Wonderland... like in the book by Lewis Carroll?"

Jefferson snorted in laughter at this and her lips quirked up slightly at his show of mirth "I don't know how that book ever got written, as most who visit Wonderland don't return, but trust me – Wonderland is the most ironic name possible." The bitterness returned to Jefferson's tone as he was reminded that he was trapped here once more. "Wonderland is a divided kingdom, filled with deadly wildlife, homicidal maniacs and barren wastelands – all ruled by a queen who makes Regina look like a fluffy bunny rabbit."

Flashes of memory flickered through the forefront of his mind, the blood, the burns, the bruises and the loneliness he had suffered at the hands of the Red Queen – but he pushed them back violently and re-focused his attention on Emma, lest the Hatter re-surface.

Igor stood back up as he finished tying off the bandage around Jefferson's thigh, brushing his hands off on his leather apron, before leaving the two of them alone in the room, ascending the stairs to his bedroom to give them some semblance of privacy.

"And you..." Jefferson stiffened, he knew this question would come, but still dreaded having to answer it – he didn't want her to be afraid of him – of what he could become. "What happened to you earlier? You told me you weren't Jefferson... what does that mean? Who are you really?"

"I... _I_ am Jefferson, but when I told you before that I wasn't, I wasn't lying." Jefferson began, unsure of how to explain his situation properly, brow creasing in frustration and indecision.

"What do you mean?" Emma asked, looking confused and slightly disturbed.

"This is difficult, I haven't ever had to explain this to anyone before, but you must understand that **_I_** would never hurt you." His china-blue eyes searched hers earnestly, looking for some kind of willingness to hear him out – some understanding. "I am not always myself, and I mean that in a literal sense – I am a man split in two, there is the part of myself that I try to retain – the part that I like to think of as being the man I really am." Jefferson's voice shook and his gaze clouded as he spoke. "And there is the part of me that was born of pain, isolation and madness – the part that was always there in a way, under the surface, but it grew and was twisted under years of abuse and loneliness until it became a monster – the Hatter."

"I used to live life in any way I chose, jumping from world to world and doing whatever I – or anyone else – wanted, as long as I got paid and didn't risk myself too much, I didn't care what happened to others. I was arrogant, cocky and self-centred, but not really a bad person, just selfish and careless." Emma nodded slightly, her green eyes still on his as he told her his story.

"It changed only when I fell in love with a... remarkable woman and we had Grace, I knew that I couldn't carry on the way I had now that I had a family, so I hung up my hat and turned to an honest life." Jefferson smiled bitterly, tears glimmering in his eyes as he thought of his fiery-haired, beautiful wife. "But then Priscilla died, she was killed while trying to steal in order to maintain our family, she was shot and Grace was only two years old... I became twice as dedicated to her after her mother passed away."

"Unfortunately my past caught up with me years later, the evil queen – Regina – approached me with a chance to improve Grace's life, to have her live in a better life than the one I was providing for her. But it was a trick." Jefferson gritted his teeth in rage and sadness at the memories, the Hatter was clawing at the edges of his mind and he clenched his fists in his struggle to keep him at bay. Suddenly, Emma's hand was on his, he looked up at her in astonishment and she gently squeezed his hand, her touch was surprisingly warm and comforting, this gave him the strength to continue.

"Regina abandoned me here in Wonderland in order to save her father, though I later found out that she ripped out his heart to cast the dark curse anyway. But the Red Queen had me captured, I spent the next few years in Wonderland and she was not kind in how she tried to persuade and motivate me to make her a working Hat portal. I couldn't do it. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I wanted to get back to Grace... I just _couldn't do it._ "

His hands began to shake under Emma's grip and he felt the sudden need to avoid her gaze, he stood, marching over to the table by the stairs, leaning upon it and staring down the metal surface darkly. "And then the curse happened – Regina used powerful dark magic to punish all those who she had ever met, and I was dragged into this world with no way of escaping, with two sets of conflicting memories in my head and having to watch as my daughter lived out a life as an ten-year-old girl for twenty-eight years with a family that weren't hers."

Jefferson turned his face away from Emma in shame for his own pathetic nature. "I'm a broken man – I'm weak."

"I don't know about the Hatter, but from where I'm standing, all I see is a man who has suffered far too much and lost everything and has tried his best to make up for what he's done by trying to re-unite with his daughter." Emma's soft tones coaxed Jefferson into turning his head back to face her as she approached him, her eyes shining in the orangey gas-lit room. "I don't think you're weak Jefferson."

Jefferson's heart raced as Emma approached him; there wasn't any trace of judgement, fear or disgust in her glistening forest-green eyes – just empathy and a willingness to listen. He hadn't expected her to accept him so readily after what he had done to her since they had met, but he felt a strange warmth spread through him as she stood inches away from him. He reached out a hand to stroke her cheek, and this time she did not flinch away – nor did she lean into the touch, but it was progress that meant she was starting to trust him.

"Does this mean you believe me Emma?" Jefferson asked her softly, eyes focused on hers, she swallowed and cleared her throat slightly before replying.

"I know how to tell if someone is lying – call it a superpower – and I believe that _you_ believe in all this magic and fairy-tale stuff." Her eyes bored into his, searching for something – the truth? "And you were right – I would be an idiot not to accept what is clearly in front of my eyes, we aren't anywhere on Earth... and parts of your story even sort of make a crazy kind of sense."

Emma swallowed again, seemingly hardening in her decisiveness. "I'm going to need more answers about... all of this... but, I'm willing to try to help you get out of here and back to your daughter." Emma offered Jefferson a weak, watery smile and she gripped his hand once more, rubbing her thumb along the back of it. "No child should have to grow up without their real family."

 **Hope it's still going okay for people, the reviews are appreciated and craved as usual! Thank you guys.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Something unusual**

Mary-Margaret couldn't believe her own stupidity. Her life seemed to have been nothing but a long string of bad decisions as of late, what with the idea to indulge in her infatuation with a married man, getting herself kidnapped, kicking her best friend seemingly out of existence and then her brilliant idea to lose her temper at the arraignment.

Though she loved David, she had known from the moment she discovered he was married that this could only end badly. As much as it broke her heart to think that she would be better off had she never met him, the thought still lodged itself in the forefront of her mind. He hadn't even come to see her - hadn't come to her defense. What kind of man wouldn't come to the defense of a woman he loved? Maybe this meant that he didn't actually love her. It was all so confusing.

She had tried her best to keep her composure, but Spencer's relentless accusations had got to her and she had lost it – incriminating herself as much as she could have without outright saying she had killed Kathryn. Mary-Margaret knew that she should have listened to Gold when he told her repeatedly to just end the questioning, but she had been so intent on proving her own innocence, that she had made it so much worse.

She now sat on the bed in her cell, hands folded in her lap, and tears pressing at the back of her eyes at the thoughts of all the stupid things she had done to end up here. She really hoped that Emma was okay, and that wherever she was, she would make it back here safe and sound, though Regina's words niggled at the edge of her mind. What if Emma had just left Storybrooke? What if she decided that there was no reason for her to stay any more, maybe Regina was right in her statement that Emma had thought she wasn't worth saving?

The thought made the tears flood through her barriers and slide down her reddening cheeks; she pressed her hands to her face and tried to stifle her sobs. The little fire that had started in her before was sputtering, but still telling her that she should be trying to escape, or thinking of a plan to prove her innocence. But Mary-Margaret the school-teacher didn't know what to do other than sit here and cry.

After a few more minutes, she was startled out of her self-absorption by the sound of clicking footsteps entering the station and approaching the cell, she looked up to see Mr Gold standing there, hands resting upon his cane and his face sombre. Mary-Margaret hurriedly wiped her face of her cardigan sleeves and stood, moving towards the bars to face him, she always felt the need to be on guard around Gold, as if he was a wild animal that could attack at any moment.

"Miss Blanchard." Gold inclined his head towards her politely.

"Mr Gold." she offered him a tight smile in return, smoothing down her shirt self-consciously in the presence of his habitually pristine suits.

"I came to inquire as to the whereabouts of Sherriff Swan, I know she went out to find you and that she likely did as you drove her car back here, but no-one has seen her since." Gold raised an eyebrow at her questioningly.

"I... yes she did f-find me, but s-she disappeared." Mary-Margaret stammered, feeling very unsure of how to explain all that had occurred without sounding crazy.

"Disappeared?" Gold probed, clearly impatient at her vague wording.

"W-when I escaped my c-cell I was k-kidnapped... a man attacked me in the woods and I woke up tied to a chair in his house." Mary-Margaret shuddered at the memory before continuing. "Emma turned up and tried to f-free me, but the man came back and t-took her away... I don't know what happened then, but when Emma came back she freed me, h-he turned up again and they f-fought while I freed myself from the chair."

Gold watched her as she spoke, watching impassively as Mary-Margaret stuttered through her explanation, seemingly unconcerned by her account of the traumatic events.

"I f-finally managed to get free and I h-helped Emma fight him... but I... I kicked him out of a window... and h-he p-pulled her o-out with h-him..." Mary-Margaret's voice broke here and the tears slid down her face once more, she took a deep breath before finishing. "When I went to the w-window, they were gone, they v-vanished, both of them... g-gone."

"There was nothing?" Gold questioned, his brown eyes unfathomable.

"T-there was b-broken glass...and a hat." Mary-Margaret stammered, nearly jumping in shock when Gold was suddenly right up close by the bars, eyes blazing with something she didn't recognise, but terrified her nonetheless.

"A Hat? Are you quite certain?" Gold hissed through clenched teeth, eyes burning into her.

"Uh y-yes? A t-top hat?" Mary-Margaret yelped, taking a step back in alarm, wondering what in the world a hat was so important for.

Gold took several breaths, seemingly trying to calm himself before he stepped back and his composure returned.

"Thank you Miss Blanchard, this has been most illuminating." Gold inclined his head to her once more, before turning on his heel and leaving the station without another word.

"Wait! What am I going to do?" Mary-Margaret clutched and bars and called after him. "Gold!"

But he was gone.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Emma?" a quiet voice awoke her from her fitful slumber, and she opened her eyes to see Jefferson standing a few feet away from the table on which she lay; apparently having learned his lesson from the last time she awoke to find him hovering too close to her. The Sherriff was somewhat grateful that he seemed to be learning the values of personal space at last, although apparently not the idea that it is never a good idea to wake up a woman unprompted.

"What is it?" Emma grumbled as she attempted to lever herself up using only one arm, Jefferson cautiously watched her struggle for a moment or two before approaching and helping her to sit on the edge of the table. She gave him a half-hearted smile at his help, slowly rolling the aching joints that came from spending a night on a wooden table after having been stabbed and thrown through a second-story window.

"I just wanted to tell you that there's food, and fresh water if you wanted to eat and wash up." Jefferson told her, gesturing over his shoulder to where there was a table set with a steel basin filled with water, a cloth and two plates with what appeared to be bread on them.

"Thanks." Emma murmured, unsure of how to behave around him anymore, while she certainly felt empathy for his pain and his struggles, she still wasn't sure what might set him off and bring out the "Hatter". She knew from experience that treating someone like they were breakable was one of the worst ways to make them feel normal – it just made them more aware of their own instability and therefore, more likely to break.

It wasn't just his seemingly split personality that made her unsure of how to behave around him, there was lingering suspicion over the whole kidnapping and threatening affair that happened less than few hours ago. But there was something more behind all the suspicion and madness there was a strange sort of... kinship. The companionship of two lost, troubled souls in a world that that didn't truly belong. Even if she didn't believe in Jefferson's theories of other worlds, she could still tell that he didn't belong in Storybrooke any more than she had done – they both were outsiders, watching from the outside.

Emma pushed herself off of the table and crossed the room to where the plate of bread and some sort of weird round red fruit lay, she picked up the fruit and sniffed it curiously – it certainly didn't look like any fruit she had seen before. Jefferson smiled slightly at her confusion, coming over and taking the fruit from her, pulling it apart with his nimble fingers, revealing a bright green inside that glistened with juice. "It's called a Gloomberry – so-called because they grow primarily in the Hills of Gloom." He brought his fingers up to his mouth, licking the juice off of them. "They are much more delicious than the name would suggest."

Emma nodded absently, eyes not seeming to be able to leave Jefferson's pink pouty lips as he sucked the fruit juice off his fingers, before he passed the fruit back to her, her hand numbly accepting it as she tore her gaze away from him – re-focussing it down onto her food. Leaning her back against the table, she began to eat, intently concentrating on what she was doing, feeling confusion at what was so damned fascinating about Jefferson's stupid pouty face. The "Gloomberry" surprisingly just as delicious as Jefferson had said – tasting somewhat like a strange combination of pineapple, strawberries and weirdest of all – cinnamon.

"Well that's another point to your 'magic is real' idea, I suppose." Emma said grudgingly. "I've never tasted anything like that before."

Jefferson smiled at her encouragingly, a hint of mirth in his blue eyes as he leant against the table beside her and began to eat his own meal. "Oh yes, of course, falling through a magical hat, hearing my life-story and seeing unearthly wildlife doesn't mean a thing, but one exotic fruit and you believe me."

"Oh quiet Mr "I'll kidnap and drug a woman to make her believe in magic", it's not like anything that has happened over the last few hours has made any sense." Emma grumbled at him, half-heartedly shoving him with her uninjured shoulder.

"Would you have ever believed me if I had just approached you in the station, and asked nicely for you to help fix my magical hat?" Jefferson asked her, raising his eyebrows sardonically, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips, raising his voice in a mocking impersonation of himself at the last part of the sentence.

Emma shouldered him again, this time accidentally knocking his injured leg as she did so, feeling a flash of guilt as he winced in pain. "Sorry about that."

"About nudging me? Or about stabbing me in the first place?" Jefferson asked her, dark eyebrow cocked as he looked at her sideways.

"You were kind of asking for it the first time." Emma mumbled, recalling the unprompted kiss.

"I suppose I was a bit forward there, what with the whole 'having kidnapped you' business, but don't tell me you didn't enjoy it at least a little bit." There was that smugness again, the one she had sensed when she first met him – she wasn't sure whether this was Jefferson, or the "Hatter's" influence bleeding through.

"Can I ask who decided to kiss me?" Emma asked tentatively, her eyes rising to meet his awkwardly, Jefferson shifted uncomfortably for a moment before opening his mouth to answer just as footsteps clattered on the stairs above them. Both were startled out of their conversation as Igor emerged from the other room, approaching them with an armful of clothing.

"Morning, I just thought you might want a change of clothes." Igor said, passing half the armful to Jefferson and the other to Emma. "You're lucky I decided to keep the trunk of clothes you left here Jefferson, I came quite close to just selling them." Igor eyed the clothes somewhat wistfully. "All that leather would have probably been worth a fair bit of gold."

At mention of selling the clothes Jefferson stiffened indignantly, holding the leather coat in his hands tighter to his chest in such a protective way that Emma couldn't help but snort in laughter. Jefferson looked at her sideways and then back at Igor. "Well thank you for not selling them, I would hate the thought of some Wonderland noble prancing about in my coat." Jefferson's gaze softened for a moment and his tone was sincere as he continued. "And thank you for everything you've done, you have no reason to help me, and I will find a way to repay you."

Igor waved a hand dismissively at him and went about clearing up the room. "You did enough for me by taking me away from Frankenstein – the man had gone over the edge and he had become impossible to work for. I got the feeling that if I had stuck about much longer the Doctor would have either used me as a test subject or taken my organs to fuel his experiments."

"You worked for a Doctor Frankenstein? As in Frankenstein's monster?" Emma asked incredulously. "He's real too?"

Both Emma and Jefferson stiffened in shock and tuned to look at each other as they both realised the implications of what she had just said. " _He's real too?"_

 _ **Too.**_

 **Thank you for the feedback as usual. Please R &R. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Run Rabbit Run**

Jefferson stared at Emma, transfixed by what she had just said, it may have been a simple slip of the tongue, but he knew it was a clear sign that her belief was growing. Bit by bit, she seemed to be becoming more used to the idea of what - in her world - were fairy-tales being real. He knew it would take her some time to fully believe in all of the things that were such an intrinsic part of what she needed to know to become the saviour. It warmed his heart slightly that she was getting towards being ready to believe in everything that made Jefferson's life what it was.

Igor for his part did not realize the significance of what Emma had just said and merely let out a hearty laugh at Emma's wonder at the existence of the man he worked with for years. "Oh yes, he is quite real, though not as amazing as he would have you believe." Igor shook his head in reminiscence, smiling slightly. "He was certainly a brilliant man – no doubt about that, but he was obsessive, sporadic and a bit of a womanizer when I knew him."

While Emma's attention was focused upon Igor and his narration, Jefferson took the opportunity to slip upstairs in order to get changed, his current clothes were covered in blood and the left leg of his trousers was torn wide open. He was glad that he had left his old clothes back here. He had taken the house in Wonderland many, many years ago, back when he was a traveller; he had given the house to Igor as a sanctuary when he met him after his brief escapade with Frankenstein and Rumpelstiltskin.

The man had been so desperate and had offered him all of the money that he had, back then Jefferson had only cared about the weight of his own purse so had accepted his offer and taken him to Wonderland – a land where it was unlikely that Dr Frankenstein would ever find his erstwhile assistant. He didn't really know exactly what had happened between them, but knowing Frankenstein's obsession with raising the dead and harvesting human organs – he didn't feel the need to ask.

As Jefferson pulled on the familiar leather trousers, buttoned waistcoat, boots and coat he felt the Hatter clawing at the edges of his mind once more, the presence of his previous persona – the careless, selfish portal-jumper - he could feel the Hatter drawing strength. He had to pause in tying his blood red cravat around his neck as the massive migraine that came with repressing the Hatter came on, feeling like there were needles driving deep into his skull. Jefferson's brow furrowed in pain and his hands flew to clutch at his head in a vain attempt to suppress the oncoming darkness.

Having had very little success in the past at doing so on his own, he tried focusing on any memory he could dredge up that would turn his thoughts from the simple wardrobe change and back to the real reason he was here – Grace. He pulled on the memories of their games - chasing each other through the woods around their quaint home, of her sunshine smile, even of the pain that being separated from her brought him. It helped his grapple back control of his mind and after several minutes of internal struggle he opened his eyes and released his pent up breath.

He finished dressing slowly, his trembling fingers brushing over the roses embroidered in the upturned collar of the coat and rubbing self-consciously through his already tousled hair. Looking into the mirror, he saw his past-self staring back at him - the man who he was when he first met Regina and became a part of making what she was today.

He sighed heavily and returned to the downstairs room where Igor and Emma were still discussing what it had been like working for Victor Frankenstein, Emma watching the man in a way that was almost childlike in its fascination. Though there were still clearly signs of disbelief etched into the way she spoke to him, it remained equally clear that her obstinacy was being shaken by another's account of the infinite realms and of story realms being a part of someone else's past.

"Feeling more like yourself now Jefferson?" Igor's voice roused him from his contemplation where he had been hovering at the bottom of the stairs, the question made his jaw tighten slightly at the remembrance that Igor knew him before he became what he was today – that he still knew him as what was more or less the first stepping stone he took to becoming the Hatter, back when he gave little consideration to anyone else.

Emma turned to face Jefferson, slightly startled as she saw his new apparel, her eyes landing sceptically upon all of the tight leather in a way that the Hatter noted smugly was not entirely unappreciative. A monster he may be, but the Hatter was still just as vain as the next man. "Have you always been so eccentric a dresser? It looks like someone has a bit of a leather fetish."

Jefferson smirked at her, dropping a wink as he commented "From what I've seen of your wardrobe I don't think I'm the only one with a fetish." Thinking of her red leather jacket, the previous Sherriff's jacket, and numerous pairs of knee high leather boots that he had seen her wear in her short time in Storybrooke.

"Hilarious." Emma drawled at him, though he swore he could detect a hint of humour in her green eyes.

"You might want to get changed yourself, what with all the blood, holes and the clear signs of not from being around here." Jefferson suggested, gesturing to the clothes that were still in Emma's arms.

"What, are we going somewhere?" Emma asked confusedly. "I thought we were going back to Storybrooke."

Jefferson rolled his eyes at her "Yes we are, but unfortunately we are going to need to find magic in order to send us back home without the Hat." His mood sobered slightly as he continued. "I know from experience that we're not likely to be able to get a Hat portal working to get out of here, which means we have to either go to the Pool of tears – which is a bad idea – or we need to find someone with access to a looking-glass portal or a magic bean."

"Your best bet would be to travel to the nearest town through the Fungal Forest and ask for help there." Igor said, eying Jefferson as he spoke. "But it would definitely be a good idea to avoid the capital and the Royal forest – the queen has become increasingly brutal in her treatment of the people over the last couple of years." Jefferson nodded in agreement; he had never intended to return to the Castle or anywhere near it if he had any say about it – he would rather die.

"Well I'll be back in a few minutes then." Emma mumbled, clearly feeling conflicted about all of the open discussions of Wonderland and magic as if they were fact, she disappeared up the stairs to Igor's room to get changed in relative privacy.

"Who is she?" Igor asked, the question having apparently been pent up inside him for quite some time.

"Her name is Emma Swan; she grew up in a world without magic, but was born in the Enchanted Forest to Snow white and Prince James and she is also the Saviour who is going to re-unite me with my daughter." Jefferson stared at the staircase blankly as he spoke; Igor let out a low whistle through his teeth and shook his head.

"Well that's quite an impressive title to claim, I don't know much about the Enchanted Forest, but from what I've heard she has her work cut out trying to save that place."

"What do you mean?" Jefferson asked sharply, head snapping about to face Igor, who looked surprised at the question.

"I would have thought you'd know more about this than I would what with your hat trick and all – the Enchanted Forest is rumoured to now being an abandoned wasteland – everything falling to ruins, people disappeared and monsters roaming the land unchecked."

Jefferson gritted his teeth in anger – of course the Evil Queen's curse would have left the land barren and desolated, with no-one left to live in it, there was nothing to stop other kingdoms from invading and warring over the remains. It was most likely that his cottage in the woods where he had lived with Grace was now destroyed and the Enchanted Forest would surely no longer be a safe place to return to.

He couldn't return to his home with Grace until Emma broke the curse and it would hopefully send them all home – he could no longer just travel home through the Hat once he had found a way back to Storybrooke to collect Grace. His future relied even more heavily upon Emma than it had done before, his hopes to break the curse up until now had mainly been about restoring Grace's memories, but he had always retained the hope that he could restore her memories without the curse being broken.

There was a selfish part of him that wanted everyone to remain cursed so that Regina would remain occupied with her little town and forget to pursue him, but he now knew that Emma's belief was essential to returning everyone's happy endings – not just his own. It would mean that Emma would be re-united with her family and would no longer be as alone as he now was. Jefferson felt a pang of apprehension at the thought that he and Emma would likely no longer see one another after the curse was broken – she would most likely be ushered into her true life as a princess by her parents, and he would try to return to another realm to be with Grace. Though he still felt a niggling worry that the Hatter could become a problem in his role as a father – he had never dared think of how the Hatter could react to interacting with Grace, he shuddered at the thought of his darker self hurting his sweet, innocent Grace. Over the years spent in Storybrooke, he had managed to wrest enough control over himself to keep the Hatter away from Grace by isolating himself and not approaching his daughter – no matter how much he wanted to.

Jefferson was broken from his dark thoughts by the sound of footsteps on the stairs once more and turned to see Emma standing at the foot of the stairs, awkwardly pulling at the edge of the black leather tunic she wore. The clothes were also his own and as such were slightly too large for her, but not so much that they looked ridiculous, she wore the leather tunic, dark trousers and knee high boots well, though she looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"How do you move in this stuff?" Emma grumbled as her clothing creaked slightly with every movement she made, it had spent the last thirty years in a trunk and as such was stiffer than it usually would be. "How do you fight?"

Jefferson snorted with laughter at her reaction to his wardrobe "I've never been one for fighting myself – I try to stay out of conflicts."

Emma raised an eyebrow at him sceptically, likely thinking of the fight they had both been involved in mere hours before. "Well it's still ridiculous, now can we get a move on – I need to get back to Mary-Margaret... and Henry."

"Trust me, not as much time has passed as you think it has – at least over there it hasn't." Jefferson told her, moving around the table and towards the door, unbolting the numerous locks with quick hands. "But you're right, we need to go." He turned to nod at Igor in thanks. "I will find a way to thank you Igor."

"Travel safe." Igor replied offhandedly to Jefferson, turning instead to extend his calloused hand to Emma, who took it and shook it, giving him an awkward smile in return.

"Thank you for all of your help – you saved my life." Emma said, genuinely meaning it as she released Igor's hand and followed Jefferson out of the front door into the early-morning red tinted sunlight.

Once they stood outside, he heard Emma gasp as she saw what the sunlight revealed of the world around her. The surrounding scenery was filled with vibrantly coloured giant mushrooms, the sky tinted a bright blood red and in which flew huge, vividly green birds, and most strikingly of all - the endless – gravity defying – hedge maze that stretched off to the east. The forest clearly made an impression upon her previously doubtful stance. "What the hell did you put in that tea?" she murmured, a slight smile of awe on her red lips.

Jefferson smirked at the incredulous, wonder-struck look upon her face. "Welcome to Wonderland.

 **Wasn't too sure about how this story is developing and life has been interrupting my updates, so apologies for that. Please R &R as usual.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hopeless wanderer**

The clock's insistent ticking on the wall was really starting to irritate Mary-Margaret, her foot jittered restlessly with each obscenely loud tick, and she had been left in the cell alone for much longer than she had expected to be. The sun had set in the time she had been here, and glancing at the aforementioned irritating clock, she was that it was close to 7pm, she had expected to be visited after the arraignment – at least another visit from Regina to gloat or one from Gold to discuss how he was going to get her out of here with his fantastical lawyer skills. She supposed that he only ever put them to use for his own purposes however, as he hadn't returned to help her – no one had. As far as she knew, Emma was still missing – or she had just left Storybrooke – whichever it was, her friend hadn't come back to the station. She didn't even want to think of David right now, or why he had apparently abandoned her. Mary-Margaret felt truly alone.

The spark still sputtered, tiny but strong within her chest – the one telling her not to give up and be so self-pitying, that there must be something she could do to prove her innocence, but Mary-Margaret knew realistically that there was nothing she could do from a cell and that trying to escape would probably end just as badly as it did the last time. Even if she wasn't kidnapped by a madman this time, she would most likely be sent straight to jail as only guilty people tried to flee, not that it mattered anyway, as she didn't have the cell key anymore. It was hopeless.

Despite the fact that David seemed to have declared her guilty in his own mind to the extent that he wouldn't even visit her before she was sentenced and sent to jail, Mary-Margaret still missed him. Just as she felt a strange, deep connection with Emma – as if they had known each other for their whole lives – she felt that she and David were meant to be together, despite all of what stood in their way. Despite his marriage, him being in a coma when they first met, the fact that they had only known each other for a matter of weeks and even her being accused of murdering his missing wife - the spark in her heart told her she could overcome all of it. That _they_ could. Together. She tried to tell herself that she was being unrealistic and foolish, but that little spark kept growing, inch by inch, telling her to never give up. True love wasn't something that could be easily vanquished... was it?

She was startled from her reverie by the sound of multiple pairs of footsteps clicking on the hard floor of the station; she jumped up from the bed, wrapping her slim hands around the bars as she strained her neck to see who was coming. Mary-Margaret caught a glimpse of dark hair and a smart pant suit, inwardly deflating as she realized that one of her visitors was Regina, but was pleasantly surprised when the mayor was not followed in by policeman coming to take her way. Instead, the two men accompanying her were none other than David and Mr Gold. All she needed now was for Emma to be here and she'd have 'thoughts-of-abandonment' bingo.

"Miss Blanchard." Regina greeted her so stiffly that Mary-Margaret couldn't help but feel a tendril of hope creep into her – there was surely only one thing that could make Regina so unhappy and for her to still have to come here.

"What's the verdict?" Mary-Margaret asked tentatively, forest green eyes flitting between Regina and Mr Gold – carefully avoiding looking at David.

"I'm sure you'll be just _delighted_ to hear that you are free to go." Regina spoke through Colgate-ad white teeth that were gritted so hard together that Mary-Margaret was surprised they didn't break. "Kathryn has been found safe and sound."

Mary-Margaret felt tears of relief flood her eyes and she clasped a hand to her mouth in an attempt to hold back a shout of joy. Kathryn was alive. She was free. "Oh thank god."

"Yes, you are to be released from custody and as the new acting Sherriff, Mr Nolan has the responsibility of releasing you." Mr Gold said in a way that Mary-Margaret pegged as slightly smug, her gaze finally went to David as he came forward to unlock the door to her cell.

His eyes met hers as the door swung open and Mary-Margaret paused for a moment, noting the shiny new Sherriff's badge on his hip and the relieved look shining in his blue eyes before she threw her arms around his neck. David stiffened momentarily in shock before wrapping his arms around her in a warm and comforting embrace; they stood there for a few moments before Regina pointedly cleared her throat in annoyance.

"Need I remind you _David_ that you are still married to my friend Kathryn and that this woman still needs to go through the proper checkout procedures and paperwork before she can be released." Regina stated haughtily, her eyes colder than liquid nitrogen as she glared at the two of them.

"Of course Madame Mayor, my apologies, I've only officially been in this job for two hours." David replied dryly, drawing a repressed smile from both Mary-Margaret and even Mr Gold, but a sharp glare from Regina. The mayor turned on her impractical heel and stalked from the station, anger radiating off her like a force field and the door slamming loudly behind her.

"Congratulations Miss Blanchard." Mr Gold said quietly, inclining his head towards her, and turning as if to leave as well, before Mary-Margaret reached out and lightly brushed his arm.

"Thank you Mr Gold." Mary-Margaret said sincerely, eyes rising to meet his chocolate brown ones. "I don't know what you did, but thank you."

"I did nothing dearie; sometimes all a situation needs is a little miracle." Mr Gold replied cryptically, his eyes unfathomable.

"Speaking of miracles, has there been no sign of Emma?" she asked, thinking of why David was now wearing the Sherriff's badge.

"I'm afraid not, but something tells me that she will return, and that when she does, the situation will become much clearer." Gold turned to leave once more, and this time Mary-Margaret did not move to stop him.

"I will never understand that man." muttered David after Gold was out of ear-shot.

"God forbid." Mary-Margaret replied softly.

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Emma had to admit that the bright red, green blue and pink mushrooms and fauna that surrounded her were undeniably similar to how she had always imagined Wonderland to look when she read the book as a little girl. Though she had yet to see any white rabbits, playing card soldiers, giant pipe-smoking blue caterpillars or the infamous Queen of hearts, she was getting startling flashes of familiarity as she recalled how much she had enjoyed the story as a child. But even in the darkest depths of the book, she never remembered the sky being a bloody-burnt red. The light caused everything it touched to be hued an eerie crimson, and also seemed to have notched up the temperature a few degrees, so much so that Emma could feel sweat glistening on her brow, as they trekked further around the rocky fringes of what Jefferson had called the Mountains of Division.

Despite herself, she was having trouble denying that she was no longer anywhere on Earth – nothing about the forest, the sky, the plants, the wildlife or even the very air she breathed, was familiar. Everything was tainted in a twisted, dark-fairytale sort of way that made her feel on edge with every step, as if she was in danger by simply being there – which, if what Jefferson told her was true, she was.

They walked side by side in an uneasy silence, Jefferson would occasionally try to break it by pointing out different plants or creatures that were either dangerous, or interesting to him, but Emma mainly responded with a non-committal hum or with monosyllabic replies that left her travelling companion seeming dejected. While she appreciated him trying to make conversation, she didn't like his constant attempts to remind her that this wasn't anything like the world she was used to, that wherever they were – she was the amateur.

Since coming to Storybrooke, she had felt increasingly out of her depth with each day that passed – with her relationship with Henry, with having a roommate and friend in Mary-Margaret, with the rivalry with Regina and with her vexing verbal sparring sessions with Gold. Combined with the seemingly constant disasters and dramas that plagued the town, she felt as though she had been downing - even before she had been kidnapped, threatened and stabbed by the psychotic half of a man who believed in magic.

Despite the obviously rocky foundations of their relationship, Emma founds herself warming slightly to Jefferson; he could be genuinely kind and sweet, though a little awkward, when he was himself. His clear compassion for his daughter despite his obvious loneliness and instability was something that made her admire him all the more. She could relate to the emptiness that had once consumed Jefferson that he then filled with love for his child, she had done the same thing with Henry – they had both bettered themselves and pulled out of empty, wandering, selfish lives to take care of their children. From what she had heard of Jefferson's life before he came to Storybrooke, he had done just what Emma had been doing for most of hers – travelling around, getting odd jobs here and there – not really caring about what they did as long as they could survive and isolating themselves to keep from getting hurt or abandoned.

"Emma?" Jefferson's voice roused her from her contemplation and she looked up from where her gaze had been fixed on the leather boots she wore to land upon his concerned stare.

"Sorry, what?" Emma asked, worried she'd missed something important in her reverie; she took a brief glance around, but only saw the same scenery that had been around them for the last few hours – blue hued wall of rock to the right and endless seeming trees and mushrooms to the left.

"I was just asking if you wanted to stop for a few minutes – we've walked quite a distance and my leg is killing me." Jefferson smiled at her slightly, but behind the joking tone, she could tell that he meant what he said, so she nodded and he hastened his pace so that he was now walking briskly ahead of her so that she had to jog to keep up.

"I thought we were stopping?" Emma's brow furrowed in puzzlement at Jefferson's sudden burst of energy.

"We are, but I know a spot just further up here that's a lot safer to rest in than here." Jefferson replied, turning his head to quirk a smile at her. "Most of the fungal life in this area is not safe to get close to."

Emma nodded as if she understood what that actually meant and focussed on keeping up with him, watching his leather clad form moving ahead of her, until after another minute or so of walking, he stopped suddenly, causing her to collide with him. Unfortunately Jefferson's bad leg shuttered and they both tumbled to the ground and began to slide down a steep grassy bank; they rolled to a stop at the bottom of a ditch that was on the side of the yellow stoned path they had been walking along.

They ended up in a heap with Jefferson on his back and Emma lying awkwardly on top of him with her elbow bashing into his face, she pulled back away from the awkward closeness and tried to push herself up off of him, forgetting about her injured shoulder. Her weakened arm shuttered under her weight and she fell back on top of him, their faces now inches apart, Jefferson's china blue eyes were so intensely warm, his soft pink lips so close to hers... their eyes met for a few seconds before both burst out laughing. Jefferson rolled her off onto the grass beside him, and levered himself into a sitting position with a grunt of pain, reaching out to gently massage his upper thigh, the wound clearly giving him as much trouble as her own was.

"Next time" Emma grumbled, awkwardly manoeuvring herself into a semi-sitting position using only one arm. "Warn me when you're going to suddenly stop walking in the middle of the road like that."

"Sorry, didn't realize you were sticking so close to my tails." Jefferson replied, a slightly smug smirk slipping onto his lips as he continued. "Something must have got you _very_ distracted back there."

Emma's jaw dropped and she opened her mouth a few times before settling to just glare at Jefferson, who was _definitely_ smirking at her now, she felt a twinge of concern that this might not be Jefferson she was talking to. But his brash attitude had riled up her own natural cockiness, and she returned his smirk without even thinking about it. "Well, I _have_ always had a thing for _tight_ leather."

Emma felt a thrill of victory as Jefferson looked just as flummoxed as she had a moment ago – his face turning a bright pink and his gaze averting from her own. Though she was slightly disappointed that he looked away, she was at least glad that the sudden cockiness and flirtation had not meant the return of the Hatter. Or at least, she didn't think it had.

This journey was likely going to be very complicated.


	12. Chapter 12

**A Million Mushrooms**

After their brief, unexpected tumble down into the ditch, it took Jefferson and Emma longer than planned to work up the energy to continue onward, what with both of their injuries flaring with pain whenever they attempted to move as they usually would. Emma was used to hiding any pain she felt, as for most of her life there would be no one around who would really care about her wellbeing, but with Jefferson being the one to injure her – even if it wasn't really his fault – she felt even more inclined to hide her distress from him.

The bandages on her shoulder were constantly slipping due to the awkward positioning of the wound; meaning that they rubbed against the tender flesh in such a way that she could feel that it wasn't likely to properly heal over any time soon. But being in the middle of nowhere and having no real idea of what she could do to fix the problem anyway, she was determined to keep her discomfort concealed as much as she could. She often felt Jefferson's gaze on her and she could tell that he still felt guilty for what he had done, even if it hadn't actually been him who hurt her, she didn't really blame him for it and didn't think he should either.

Once they did start walking again, they continued along the same path they had followed before, the scenery was now beginning to change, the trees now surrounding them from all sides, obscuring the sheer wall of rock that had previously been to the right of them. The mushrooms were smaller in this area of the woods, though still as vibrantly coloured and apparently dangerous as the larger varieties were, but there were far more of them than there had been before.

Jefferson took great care with his steps to avoid the mushrooms that now clustered along the cracks in the path, which was becoming harder to see as the treetops above them seemed to make the daylight much dimmer through the forest canopy. Emma was somewhat startled when Jefferson took her arm, and began to guide her through the minefield of mushrooms that had sprung up around them, though she was confused as to how dangerous these fungi could be if even touching them was apparently bad.

"What's so special about these mushrooms?" Emma asked as he helped her navigate around a particularly large cluster of cherry coloured fungi.

"I have mainly avoided going to this area of the Fungal Forest in my previous visits, as there wasn't really anything of value around here, but the Red Queen had a large collection of toxins that were mainly collected from these mushrooms." Jefferson's jaw clenched and his eyes darkened, clearly recalling some rather unpleasant experiences. "Some are deadly, some are just harmful, some hold curses, and others have hallucinogenic properties. None of them are safe to be near. Trust me."

"Okay, so stay away from the mushrooms then – got it." Emma muttered, focussing her attention more fully on avoiding the increasingly abundant dangers in this land.

They stopped only once the red sun had begun to set below the edges of the trees, coming to a halt in front of a signpost that had twisted, blackened pieces of wood pointing off in several directions. Emma was bemused to see that the directions on the sign were just as unhelpful and nonsensical as the ones in the book of 'Alice in Wonderland' had been – the one pointing east read 'That way', the one pointing west read 'Yonder', the one pointing north said 'This way' and the sign pointing back the way they had come was encouragingly labelled 'Go back'. It was all rather melodramatic, and very unhelpful.

"Yet another one of the reasons why I hate Wonderland." Jefferson growled under his breath, running a hand through his messy brown hair, and then moving to rub at his temples, as if he was in pain. Emma couldn't help but giggle at the fact that the 'Mad Hatter' was seemingly just as infuriated as she was. A thought then struck her that she was surprised she had not yet asked where exactly they were going and as Jefferson's dark eyes looked up at her quizzically when she giggled, she took the opportunity to ask.

"Which way are we actually going?" she asked, he turned and gave her a slightly sardonic smile.

"Well that would depend a good deal on where you want to go, my dear." He replied, his cobalt eyes sparkling mischievously at her, she smiled back a little as she recognised the line to be from Alice in Wonderland, and while she was somewhat tempted to give the prescribed reply of "I don't much care where", she felt that it would be counterproductive in getting home if he took her too literally.

"You actually read the book based upon somewhere you hate?" she teased him slightly; the thought amused her more than it should have, imagining him sitting his big mansion in all his finery, with his nose buried in a children's book.

"Oh please, as if I would actually do something so pointless, silly girl." He chuckled in a nasty way that sent a shiver down her spine; she took a step back from him as she realized that she was no longer speaking to Jefferson.

"Hatter." She spoke his title coldly; eyes fixed on his face as he gave her a Cheshire grin and did an overly-elaborate bow.

"Knew you'd get there in the end." He smirked condescendingly, and took a few slow steps towards her, not really rushing - he held the air of someone who was confident in his ability to intimidate without needing to be full-on and fast about his movements.

"What brought you out this time?" Emma asked, backing away from the Hatter just as slowly as he was approaching – determined to keep a few feet in between them until she could figure out what to do. She supposed she could run, but she had no idea where she actually was, or where she was even going. She also didn't want to abandon Jefferson; she didn't want him to come back to himself alone – or worse, not come back at all. Emma had to snap him out of it.

"Curiosity" He replied simply, eyes fixed on her with intensity, humour glimmering on the surface, but barely veiling something much darker underneath. "About you."

"Me?" Emma found herself coming to a stop in her retreat as her back hit the solid bark of a tree, the Hatter took another step towards her so that they were now only a foot apart from each other – it only seemed to be the times when he was the Hatter that she noticed how much taller he was than her. Or maybe she only noticed now because she did not feel safe with him. It surprised her that that up until now she had considered Jefferson as safe without even thinking about it, but it was true. It was only the Hatter that scared her.

"I'm always there you know, we share a headspace, but we can always both see what is happening – and why." The Hatter took another step closer, his left hand came up to lightly grip her injured shoulder – not painfully; just caressing the bloodstained bandage that covered the wound with one long, pale thumb. "And there's only two things occupying his little mind right now – the simpering little brat of a daughter, as per usual..." Hatter's lips twitched in apparent disgust, and he increased the pressure on her shoulder until she gasped in pain, trying to flinch back, but her back meeting the tree once more. "And _you_."

Emma felt herself shaking as the Hatter leaned forward so that his lips were right by her ear, brushing her hair away from it so that he could whisper "I can't understand why he obsesses so. You are nothing special. But _you_ are his hope, he thinks you're going to be the saviour that's going to break the curse and re-unite him with his oh so _precious_ little girl."

Emma's breath hitched in her throat as the Hatter's lips moved to brush her earlobe, biting down hard until he drew a cry from her which rose in pitch as his other hand came up to grab her roughly by the hair, pulling her neck into an arched position. "He's forgotten what's really important in his life – himself, he's too focussed upon meaningless sentimental drivel and _true love_ " he spat the words as if they were poison, his grip tightening. "That he is ignoring what is now right in front of him – revenge on the Red Queen."

"Jefferson has moved on with his life, and you should let him do that." Emma growled at him, attempting to wrench her head from his grasp to meet his eyes – he let her, hand releasing her hair and moving to pin her other arm to the tree. "Grace is more important to him than revenge; the important thing is that you both escaped from her, and that you _both_ have a daughter who needs you to get back to her."

The Hatter's hand moved to strike her across the face so fast that she barely recognised the movement until she felt the lingering sting of the blow upon her cheek. She used the release of his grip on her arm to shove him back forcefully, causing him to stumble upon his injured leg as he was set off balance. Emma knew that the best way to get Jefferson back to the surface would be to remind him of Grace – it had worked last time, his paternal instincts seemingly overrode the influence of the Hatter.

"Stop trying to use the brat to bring him back!" The Hatter roared, his eyes sparking furiously as he clutched at his leg seemingly more in frustration than actual pain – angry that the body he inhabited was faulty. "Do you have _any_ idea what I can do to you?"

"I imagine there's not much you can't, but it doesn't matter, because if what you said before is true, then Jefferson can hear me right now just as much as you can, and I'm sure he knows that I'm right." Emma's voice shook slightly as she spoke, trying to get through to the sane half of a man she had known less than two days was undeniably one of the strangest things she had done in her life. All she had to go on was what had worked the last time the Hatter had re-surfaced and it was putting a strain on her own mind, dealing with the conflicting personalities co-existing inside a man she was growing to care for. "You are strong enough to take back control Jefferson!"

The Hatter roared and charged at her, pushing her backwards and into the signpost, causing her head to collide with the wood hard enough to temporarily daze her, his hand came up to wrap around her throat in a choking grip. Emma gasped for air as the Hatter tightened his grip just enough for her to struggle for air, he didn't seem to want to kill her yet – just watch her struggle for breath. It was a sadistic little game to him.

"Jefferson..." Emma choked out the name in a last ditch attempt to reach him. "P-please." A flicker of something other than roiling rage appeared on his face and Emma felt a tiny spark of hope at the sign that Jefferson was trying to fight through.

Before the conflict between the Hatter and Jefferson could be resolved however, there came the sounds of loud shouting coming from nearby and lots of footsteps tramping down the path. The Hatter jerked away and released her, leaving her to slide, coughing to the ground, one hand coming up to massage her throat. They both looked over to the source of the disturbance, which came in the form of a dozen men dressed in red and black uniforms, their faces shrouded in black cloth and all carrying pikes and hauberks. "Stop in the name of the Queen!"

The Hatter took one look at the guards and bolted, running off into the direction of the sign that was labelled 'That way'. Emma struggled to her feet and looked after him in shock, surprised that he had just run at the first sign of danger. She would have understood Jefferson's fear of the men who worked for the woman who imprisoned and tortured him, but was confused to see the Hatter flee from anything – she supposed that he dubbed the odds being too far out of his favour.

Emma went to follow her travelling companion, but was stopped as the guards grabbed her by the arms, restraining her and pulling her away from the path he had fled down, back towards the road they had just appeared from. She was baffled as to what they wanted her for, and didn't feel particularly inclined to be kidnapped again, especially when Jefferson was no longer himself.

"Jefferson!" she yelled, hoping he would hear and come to her aid as she was dragged away by the retinue of armed guards, but she got the feeling that she was on her own right now. The problem was that she was now entirely sure of where she was – after everything she had experienced over the past two days, she knew that she couldn't deny it any longer. No mind trick, dream or drug was this strong - this real.

She was in Wonderland.

She had come here through a magical hat.

She was now being taken to the Queen of Hearts.

And she had been abandoned by the Mad Hatter, who currently inhabited the body of the only man who could help her.

 **I will forewarn you that I have not seen 'Once upon a time in Wonderland', so I will not be sticking to anything that is cannon within that, and that I will also be dropping in a little twist in the established timeline to do with Cora.**

 **Also I am not a fan of Kathryn either, but I feel I'm mean enough to the other characters already - plus it was easier that way. Thank you, as ever, to my loyal reviewers, and please keep the feedback coming - it is very helpful!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Long live the Bloody Red Queen**

Emma was led for miles through the Fungal Forest before the trees and mushrooms showed any signs of thinning, the men that held her arms were not gentle in their grips as they pulled her along. None of them showed any signs that the brutal pace they were keeping up tired them at all, but Emma felt every step draining her of strength she didn't really have in the first place. She had to contend with her already tired and stiff muscles, along with the injury on her shoulder flaring up with every jerk that the guards gave combined to make her vision flicker as they pulled her ever onward.

Following fair-tale logic, and seeing the red hearts emblazoned on their uniforms, she supposed that they were taking her to the Red Queen's castle. How far that was, she had no idea, but she was exhausted by the distance she had already travelled and wasn't keen on meeting the woman who had kidnapped Jefferson and tortured him into insanity.

Emma was concerned as to what the Queen of Hearts would want from her, or how she had found her in the first place, she was the sort of person who usually went unnoticed wherever she went – at least until she came to Storybrooke - so she had no idea why anyone would send a dozen soldiers after her. While it could also be true that the men had been sent after Jefferson, who would probably be a much more likely target for the Red Queen, she somehow didn't think that was the case – they hadn't given chase to him when he had run. With the numbers in their favour as they were, they could have easily split up and gone after Jefferson, who wouldn't have got very far before they caught him in no time. But they hadn't. That brought her back to the worry of what they wanted with her, and how she was going to get back home now that she had been abducted by the real-life equivalent of playing-card soldiers.

It was dark by the time the soldiers showed any signs of slowing and Emma was grateful for the decrease in pace as her body shook with exhaustion and she was pretty sure that the bandages on her shoulder had been dislodged completely by now – feeling the slow trickle of warm, wet blood trailing down her chest. Instead of the thickets of branches and fungi that had been surrounding her until now, she could now see the outer walls of the endless seeming hedge maze that she had glimpsed from the hill that Igor's house had been stationed upon.

The hedges stretched for what looked to be miles, twisting up the sides of the surrounding hills in what was surely a gravity-defying manner, the green walls criss-crossing across the landscape in such a perplexing manner that it made Emma's head hurt just looking at it from the outside. Far beyond the nearest edges of the maze, she could spot the glistening peaks of a castle turret that disappeared high into the red-tinged-clouds in a way that if she didn't know better, she would have sworn had pieces of land floating in them. She squinted in an attempt to make out the blobs of what looked to be grass-topped rock that floated in the sky above the maze, but the guards took that moment to pull her to a sudden, jarring stop.

All of the guards around her, apart from the two who were still gripping her arms moved away to the sides. They parted to reveal a short, plump man in a long red robe with an official, pompous sort of look about him, his head was held high above a fluffy white collar. Emma got the feeling however, that he was someone who acted as if he was more important than he actually was – a glorified servant – probably slimy and ass-kissing to his superiors.

The man cleared his throat loudly, it was clearly a call of attention, despite the fact that he was already the centre of attention and addressed Emma in such an officious manner that it made her roll her eyes, despite the circumstances. It was the same sort of thing she had seen countless desk-jockey cops and prison guards do before – trying to assert authority over anyone and anything they could as a form of validation for a pointless job. "Her Majesty, the Queen of Hearts, ruler of all of Wonderland and all who dwell within it, graciously welcomes you to her realm." His tone was dripping with such a fake amount of sincerity that Emma couldn't help but cringe "She offers to you, as she does all visitors to Wonderland, her leniency by allowing her most loyal subject – namely myself - to inform you of the dangers of this land."

Emma scoffed at that, she knew when she was being lied to, and right now, she could practically hear her 'superpower' screaming at her – whatever drivel this man was currently spouting, there was more to the reason she had been abducted by a dozen armed guards. Any idiot could see that, so she waited with raised eyebrows, for the officious fool to get on with telling her why she was really here.

"Her Majesty wishes me to inform you of the dangers of entering her land unchecked and of being affiliated with a known deranged criminal and personal enemy of the Royal family." So this _was_ about Jefferson, she only wondered why they were bothering with all of the show and apparent leniency if they knew she was travelling with someone the Queen claimed was a criminal. There must be some sort of catch in this.

The man was now looking at her expectantly, as if waiting for her response, she swallowed slightly before speaking. "Uh, that's not exactly true... I'm not here by choice." Emma shifted her footing slightly, feeling rather out of her element under the gaze of a dozen armed guards and under questioning for someone who worked for the bloody Queen of Hearts. She was unsure of how much to reveal and decided to stick to the bare details "I was kind of kidnapped in my world... I was injured and don't really remember much of how I ended up here... but apparently it was through a hat..."

"You say you travelled here through a hat?" he asked sharply, his eyes narrowing at her in suspicion.

"Uh yeah, he got me to make it, but apparently it didn't-" Emma was cut off mid-speech as the man suddenly clapped his hands to the side loudly, all of the guards snapped back to attention.

"That's all I needed to hear." The official announced, before turning to the group of ten guards to her left. "You are to return to the Fungal Forest and see if you can find this hat."

All of the guards, apart from the two still holding Emma in place left, jogging back down the path they had just come from, not seeming to mind the blind order-following in the slightest. The official turned on his heel in a sweep of embroidered red robe, and strode off into the hedge maze, the guards pulling her along in his wake, drawing a gasp of pain as the tender flesh around her wound was pulled open slightly. The guard on her right side re-adjusted his grip on her injured shoulder so that it was no longer pulling at the bandages; she looked up at him in surprise, wondering why he was suddenly considerate of her comfort after miles of relentless dragging.

The thought briefly flicked through her mind that she could at some point use his loosened grip to escape, and lose her captors in the maze, but she doubted she would ever find her way out again, and would most likely end up at the end of one of the guard's hauberks for trying to escape. Though she couldn't see his face through the black cloth that veiled all of the guard's faces, she got the feeling he was giving her a look of sympathy, his head moved slightly so that his face was almost imperceptibly turned towards her ear and he muttered. "Stay away from the hedges."

While Emma didn't know what was so dangerous about the hedges that a complete stranger would warn her about them, she guessed it would most likely be in the same way that all the Wonderland wildlife was deadly. As she was pulled onward through the twists and turns of the maze – the official apparently knowing the way through the hedges – she took some time to consider what had made her finally accept that this was all real. Despite all of the bizarre and unbelievable things she had seen since meeting Jefferson and the Hatter, she felt that she had gotten to the stage where disbelief and stubbornness would simply be impractical. The way she saw it, she could sit down and refuse to believe anything that was happening as a part of her wanted to, or she could get on with dealing with each situation as it arose. It made much more sense to treat this all as if it was real, for the consequences would be much more dire if she decided to just try to wish it all away and it turned out to be real – most likely resulting in her death. She decided that living in a mad-world was better than dying in one in an attempt to reach a familiar-one.

There was also a part of her that believed Jefferson because she trusted him, despite the fact that he was mentally unstable and shared his head-space with a psychotic Hatter; she believed that his story and his love for daughter were real. Despite the fact that the Hatter had just abandoned her to be taken to the Red Queen, she was more concerned about Jefferson wresting back control over himself, she was more afraid of him being forever lost to his dark side's madness and vengeance than she was of him not coming back to save her.

Emma couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something about Jefferson that sparked the side of her she had thought was long buried – caring about a man in a way that was inexplicable, yet inescapable. She had felt something similar when she had first met Neal, his charming smile and painfully damaged personality had cracked right through her defences as if they weren't even there. Regardless of how she had first met Jefferson – with him kidnapping her- she couldn't deny she felt the same odd affinity that she had once done for Henry's father. Even though that relationship had ended with Neal betraying her and her consequentially giving birth in jail, she didn't regret letting her guard down as much as she should. It had given her Henry, even if only now – and the brief time she had spent with both Neal and more recently with her son, had been the best of her life. There was a tiny part of her that wanted to risk letting Jefferson in just to have that feeling once again.

But as they reached the end of the hedge maze, walking out into an open courtyard, Emma couldn't help but wish for Jefferson's presence for more than just his company. The Red Queen's castle loomed high above her, dark stone forming towering chess pieces and sinister looking arches, but what made her heart clench in her chest wasn't the gothic architecture – it was the blackened, gnarled trees that grew in front of it. From every single dead branch was hung a severed human head – hundreds of them. Men, women and even children had been decapitated and their heads strung out as a clear warning.

None of them were rotting as they should have been however; each and every head appeared to be freshly preserved and still held the pallor, but not yet greyish colour, of the recently dead. It was only as they drew closer and walked through the trees that Emma realized why the heads were so well preserved, each and every single one of them wailed as she passed by them – they were all still alive.

 **Hope people are enjoying it so far, sorry if it's moving at a weird pace - reviews appreciated.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Restless Heart Syndrome**

The Hatter ran for miles through the Fungal Forest and beyond. He ran until Jefferson's weak legs failed him and he collapsed to the ground in exhaustion and pain. All the Hatter cared about was putting as much distance between him and the Red Castle as he possibly could – it was one of the few things that he and Jefferson had always agreed upon in the past. The Hatter was not so much afraid of the Red Queen, or of what she had done to Jefferson – more that he was afraid that returning to the castle would result in him being captured once more - risking another change in Jefferson that could mean the end of both of them.

This Emma woman seemed to trigger something in Jefferson that made it harder for the Hatter to stay in control – something that brought out the almost non-existent trace of bravery that was left in his weaker side. She was the reason why Jefferson kept wresting back control of their shared body in the time since he had first started watching her, even in the time before he actually met her, Emma Swan's presence in Storybrooke had sparked hope and strength in Jefferson that made it harder for the Hatter to keep permanent control. It only worsened once the Hatter actually met her on the road, Jefferson kept on bleeding back through into their interactions, at the time he had let it happen, thinking that his weaker side's 'charm' and defenceless seeming nature would make Emma let her guard down. It had worked, and the Hatter hadn't thought much of Jefferson's brief re-surfacings – that was until it finally got to the point where he was getting Emma to do as he wanted – fixing the Hat so he could continue travelling as he had done before. He had hoped that he would wrest back complete control in he went to another land where the little brat of a daughter was no longer a distraction.

But Jefferson's presence in the Hatter's mind had only grown stronger the longer he was around that damned woman – he seemed to have taken over almost completely, the Hatter only managing to re-surface when Jefferson's anger and frustration grew too strong, triggering a loss of control. It infuriated the Hatter that when he was with Emma, the sentimental fool seemed to calm, his bumbling nature becoming more prevalent, and leaving the Hatter locked away in the back of his mind like a caged animal. And even in the time when the Hatter managed to gain control, he could feel Jefferson's pathetic 'kind' nature bleeding through into how he interacted with Emma – it was sickening.

His attempts to scare the woman away had failed as she repeatedly made a weapon of Jefferson's sentiment to use against him. He didn't know how to deal with the manipulation other than by ending the blasted woman once and for all, and he had been in the process of doing so when the Red Queen's guards had shown up.

The Hatter now had to deal with Jefferson struggling and clawing at the mental barrier that separated them, he was on his hands and knees, panting into the dirt of the path, as he fought back against Jefferson's attempt to regain control. For the first time in nearly twenty-eight years he could actually hear Jefferson's voice in the back of his mind, up until now all he would ever be aware of was the presence that was easily ignored. But now he could actually _hear_ Jefferson speaking, no, _yelling_ at him to go back, to go after Emma. The voice reached such strength and volume that the Hatter clapped his hands over his ears in some vain attempt to drown out the screams of his weaker self.

"Why would you risk what you fear most for **HER?!"** Hatter roared, gritting his teeth in pain at the unexpectedly strong assault upon the barrier between them, he couldn't understand it – Jefferson feared the Red Queen and her castle more than anything, he knew that the man would rather die than return there. The Hatter could understand Jefferson's infatuation with her as he could understand any attraction to an obviously attractive woman, but there didn't seem to be anything really special about her apart from her spunky attitude. What was it about this damned Emma that made Jefferson so strong?

With one final blow against the mental barrier, the Hatter felt Jefferson push his way through and into the forefront, violently forcing him into the back and throwing the barrier back up to keep him there. This was inconceivable! His weaker half was overpowering him in a way like never before, and was arguing back at him – trying to tell _him_ what to do. Trying to convince him to _help_ in his pointless endeavour to help a woman who was practically dead already.

The Hatter was forced to watch as Jefferson pushed his weakened, failing body back up off of the ground and began a limping run back the way they had come – heading in the direction of the last place either of them wanted to be.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

For a man that had spent three hundred years devising away in which he could travel from one world to another, resulting in a Dark Curse that ruined the lives of an entire kingdom, it was a surprisingly easy task now to devise a way in which he could do exactly the same thing – minus the curse. All it required was a little blood, a hat and a willing participant.

Gold had been concerned when he had first heard of Emma Swan's disappearance, though he had foreseen Jefferson's actions concerning long ago, and had known that he would be an intrinsic part of helping her to believe in the curse, leading her that much further towards breaking it – fulfilling her destiny as the Saviour. What he had not seen was two major factors that now seemed to have left Emma stranded in another realm – the first being her own mother's strength re-surfacing in the form of an overzealous attempt to kick a man out of a window, and the other factor being Emma's belief apparently being strong enough to make the Hat work. While he was pleasantly surprised that Emma's belief had progressed this far after so short a time in Storybrooke, he was frustrated that she was now most likely in a situation that would most likely overwhelm her, or result in her death. He had confidence that as the Saviour – even without the use of magic she didn't yet know she possessed – she would do her best to survive in whatever land she had ended up in, but he wasn't willing to risk the fate of the town, and more importantly him finding his son, on her mundane bail-bonds-person skills alone.

That was what had brought him to where he was now, standing by a pile of shattered glass in the yard of Jefferson's mansion, inspecting the battered top hat and the shards of bloody glass that surrounded it. Gold awkwardly crouched down, leaning heavily on his cane as he did so, using one gloved hand to retrieve several fragments of bloodstained glass from the grass. He carefully placed them inside a plastic freezer bag and zipped the top shut, using his cane to manoeuvre himself back to his feet before striding from the house and back to his car. He placed the hat and zip-locked bag on the car seat beside him as he pulled up and drove away from the house, now all he needed was a willing volunteer.

It would need to be someone that knew Emma and that she trusted, and preferably someone who was already awake and aware of the curse, that last attribute narrowed the list down drastically, until he could only think of a handful of people. Henry was aware of the curse, and Emma trusted him, but even Gold wasn't about to use Emma's son in such a dangerous and risky piece of magic. Regina wasn't an option even worth considering and Gold himself doubted that Emma would trust him as far as she could throw him, especially after that deal he made for Cinderella's baby.

He had the feeling that his comments on children in the foster system and young mothers had hit maybe a little too close to home for Emma, and she was already reserved when it came to her dealings with him due to the lingering threat of the favour she knew she owed. The last time he actually spoken to her he had tested her character as subtlety as he could by reminding her of the consequences of helping Mary-Margaret despite her being a fugitive, and Emma had responded just as he hoped by demonstrating loyalty to her friend. It gave him further hope that she could become the hero he needed her to be in order to defeat both the curse and Regina.

That left only one person who seemed to be aware of the curse in Storybrooke, and Emma seemed to trust him more than she trusted Gold. Smirking slightly to himself, Gold drove through town and pulled up next to Granny's, despite his own distrust of August Booth, he felt that he was the best candidate for what he had in mind. Gold had seen the way that Booth seemed to follow both Emma and Henry around, feeding Henry's belief in the fairy-tales, and he had found out with a little of his own snooping around, as well as the help of his various informants, that it had in fact been this August Booth who had salvaged Henry's story book from the ruins of his castle. It seemed increasingly likely that this writer, with his false name, was aware of the curse in Storybrooke, and seemed to be attempting to make both Henry and Emma truly believe.

Gold would ensure that Emma found her way back to Storybrooke so that she could break the curse once and for all, and Rumpelstiltskin could finally leave this town unhindered and properly begin the search to find his son.

 **Sorry this chapter was a little short - the next will be better and longer! Answers will come, I assure you. Please R &R**


	15. Chapter 15

**Breaking the same old ground**

The inside of the Red Queen's palace was less horrifying than the courtyard had been, but it was no less intimidating. Emma was led through several crimson decorated hallways and up a curved staircase that was branched in two and wrapped around a central cluster of rose bushes – just as red as Emma expected them to be. She was brought to the entrance to what was obviously the throne room; the gaping spaces that edged the walkway leading up to the throne itself were thoroughly unnerving, as they revealed open sky and a dizzyingly long fall below. Emma wasn't sure how physics or gravity worked here, but she was pretty sure that this castle, along with the maze, defied most of the basic laws what with the startling distances and angles that the architecture seemed to bend to. She could have sworn that they were currently high in the sky, but they had only walked up one short staircase and had been on ground level mere minutes ago.

The court of the Red Queen looked much as she would have imagined it to, with the red, black and white chequered tiles, displayed vases of red roses adorning the surfaces that edged the room, and a large red-cushioned throne that was raised on a dais at the centre point of attention to everyone who entered the throne room. The courtesans were peculiar looking however, all dressed in white finery that suited the theme that she also associated with the book of Alice in Wonderland, but they all wore masks - formed into the guise of various animals. The masks were mainly birds, but there were a few others that looked to be foxes and she could have sworn there was a cat shaped one standing in the furthest corner. That mask stood out particularly to Emma, not only because of its dark plum colour standing out amongst the white and beige of the court, but also because of the manic, Cheshire cat like grin that was frozen on its face. Emma only caught a glimpse though as she was pulled past the crowd to stand before the throne.

It all gave the chilling impression that she was the only human in the room, despite the fact that she knew that there were people under the masks and the guard's cloth veils, it made her feel oddly exposed to be the only one with her face uncovered. Emma figured that it was most likely a scare-tactic to try to dishearten those who were unlucky enough to be dragged here, though she fought to remain unaffected, she couldn't help but remember the living heads hung outside. She shivered slightly at the thought, but raised her chin; determined to remain strong in the face of adversity.

The official strode past Emma once the guards brought her to a stop about ten feet in front of the throne, he went to the side of the throne and Emma finally turned her attention to the woman sitting in it. At least, she assumed it was a woman; the figure on the throne wore an elaborate crimson dress that was embroidered with what Emma could have sworn were enough jewels to fund an entire town for a decade. There was a dark red, spangled veil across the woman's face and the hands that were rested primly on the arms of the throne were gloved in yet more red fabric. The Red Queen was clearly an apt title, though the name could have also been coined due to her apparent love of decapitating people.

The Red Queen held a horn up to the ear of the official and spoke into it; he nodded once and repeated what he was asked to in the same pompous, overdramatic tone as before. "Her majesty knows that you travelled here with the royal family's personal property, she demands that you tell her where it is so that it may be returned to her."

Emma shifted uneasily on her feet at the intense stares of all in the room, the guards grip on her arms had tightened once more and their restraint on her made her feel increasingly trapped. "I don't know where the Hat went; I wasn't really awake when I came here..."

The Official barked out a laugh at her in such a condescending manner that it set her teeth on edge. "Her majesty was not referring to the Hat; it is quite clear that it is no longer in this land." Emma let out a slight snort of derision at that; clearly he hadn't known that when he ordered the guards to find the hat in the Fungal Forest. The Official noticed and his jaw tightened slightly, clearly not pleased with her glib attitude towards his mistake, but he didn't comment – probably too afraid to in front of the queen.

"Her majesty was asking about the whereabouts of the criminal known as the Mad Hatter, he belongs to the Queen and it would be in your own best interests if you told us where he is." Emma blanched at the idea that Jefferson was seen as _property_ by these people, that he was an object to be used and abused by royalty whenever they felt like it.

She felt her rage and indignation bubble up to the surface before she could quell it, her own green eyes rising to meet the place under the queen's veil where she thought her eyes would be. "Well I'm sorry, _your majesty,_ but I don't know where he is, and even if I did, I wouldn't give him up to a sadistic bitch with an apparent power complex."

A gasp rippled through the gathered courtesans and there was a moment of such deathly silence that followed that Emma was pretty sure she was about to join the hanging heads in the courtyard. Though seeing the flabbergasted look on the pompous idiot's face, she almost deemed it worth it, he leant down to put his ear back to the speaking tube for a few moments, before straightening and addressing Emma with a tight lipped smirk.

"The Queen of Hearts offers you her most gracious mercy in the form of sparing your life." His lips twitched slightly at this, apparently unhappy with her decision. "But only because she has need of your assistance in remedying a situation that has plagued her since your criminal companion escaped."

Emma jerked slightly in surprise, what could she possibly do for the Queen of Hearts? Was she intended to be a lure for Jefferson to return? If that was the case then the Queen was most likely going to be disappointed – even if Jefferson ever got back control of his mind, she highly doubted he would return to the place he had been imprisoned and tortured in.

"Take her away!" the official ordered and Emma was pulled from the throne room, out of one of the side doors and down a long, dimly torch lit corridor. The kinder guard's grip on her arm loosened once they were again out of the sight of the Queen and she risked a sideways glance at him, though she still couldn't glean anything from underneath the man's mask. How the men could see anything out of the dark material, she had no idea, but they obviously could see enough as they pulled her onwards through twisting corridors and down flights of stone steps. Emma was led down one last flight before they reached a dark-wood door that had an iron grill set into it at about head height – she had spent enough time in prisons to know one when she saw it.

Emma's right arm was released while one of the guards went to unlock and open the cell door; the left-hand guard took both of her arms, standing unnervingly close behind her as his partner worked. Emma was somewhat relieved when the door was finally open and she was shoved through it, the room she entered was surprisingly large and spacious – the only furniture adorning it was a simple wooden table and chair in the centre of the open room.

The guard who had been on her left-side led her over to the table, pushing her firmly to sit in the wooden chair; the right-hand guard approached her from the other side, grabbing her wrists in a harsh grip that made her wince. Emma noticed that there were shackles attached to the arms of the chair, which the guard locked her wrists into with a resounding click. There was less than a foot slack of chain that allowed her basic movement, but only just enough to be able to stand, they clearly weren't taking any chances.

Both guards suddenly straightened their backs and their posture became rigid, moving to stand on either side of her as the door swung open once more. Emma was surprised to see the Queen standing in the doorway; only this time there was no slimy little ass-kisser of an official anywhere in sight, though her veil was still firmly in place.

"Leave." Emma jolted in shock at the sound of the Queen's voice, it was light and sounded surprisingly young, not what she would have expected from a character who she read about when she was a child, and who had apparently been torturing innocent men nearly thirty years ago. Both the guards obeyed, swiftly leaving the cell, shutting the door behind them with an ominously final clank.

"If you're planning on torturing me to find out where Jefferson is, or using me as bait, I can tell you now it's pointless." Emma stated in a steely voice, eying the Queen's veiled face venomously. The Queen didn't respond, but took a few slow, unhurried steps towards the table, and Emma could feel her intent gaze on her face.

There were a few minutes of uncomfortable silence and staring before Emma couldn't take it anymore and her usual sarcasm overflowed. "Feel free to tell me why I'm here any time now Queenie."

"Unless you wish to gain a scar to match your partner's, I would suggest you speak more respectfully to me in future." The Queen's tone was sharp, but had a slight edge of her own sarcasm to it that surprised Emma – she wouldn't have expected the notorious Bloody Red Queen to have any sort of sense of humour. Even a sarcastic one.

"Jefferson is _not_ my partner." Emma retorted, her tone just as sharp "More a grudging acquaintance that kidnapped and stabbed me." Though she didn't really blame Jefferson for any of it, she felt it would be best to the Red Queen to get any ideas about using her to manipulate Jefferson – that would most likely end in disappointment on both ends.

"I'm sure you know him better than I would, after all you did keep him prisoner and abuse him for years just so you could have a goddamned _hat_." Emma snarled.

The Queen's response to her anger was once again unexpected as she let out a chuckle, and then moved her hand to toy with the edge of her veil. "My mother was rather crude in her methods when it came to your Hatter-friend, but in the end I could still appreciate the beauty of her technique."

"Your...mother?" Emma questioned, her brow furrowed in confusion – was this not the Queen of Hearts?

"Yes, my mother left this land around thirty years ago, though the time has been frozen here by Regina's curse - until recently at least – and I have been ruling in her stead ever since." The veil was pulled from her face with a dramatic flourish, revealing a pale, coldly beautiful face. Her lips were painted blood red and her dark hair was coiled around the curve of her neck, but by far her most striking feature was her thick-lash rimmed eyes – one was a chocolate brown and the other was an icy pale green. "My name is Miranda."

"And as for why you are here, I don't need you as bait – I need you to make me a hat so that I can travel to your land." She smiled in a way that made Emma shiver. "Your Hatter friend failed every time he tried to make a portal for my mother, yet you have apparently made one with no knowledge of magic whatsoever." Miranda took a step towards the table, placing her hands firmly on the surface, her odd eyes boring into Emma. "You will make me a Hat that works, and take me to my mother and sister. I'm sure your friend has told you what happened when he failed to do as was asked of him."

Emma's heart thudded against her chest loudly and the shackles on her wrist felt tighter than ever as she realized that she was about to go through the same thing that Jefferson had; the very thing that had sent him over the edge and splintered his personality in two. She could only hope that she found a way out of here before that happened, or that she was able to recreate whatever had made the Hat work in the first place. But thinking of what Jefferson had told her, he had had no success even given the time, motivation and experience to do so. What chance did she stand? And where in hell was Jefferson?

 **Thank you as ever for the feedback chaps! And in answer to PopPotter777 I think the Disney Mad Hatter's eyes are just both bright green? And before anyone comments upon the name change, I considered several different names before deciding on Miranda (in respect to Miranda Richardson who once played the Red Queen, and also in respect to the history of femme fatales with the name) and it was a mistake in save files that I submitted an older version when I was going with Carmine. Sorry.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Enter, the Puppet**

Emma worked through the night, her hands eventually growing used to the repetitive sewing motions as she stitched cloth and felt, using the materials that had been brought to her to attempt to recreate whatever 'magic' had made the Hat work in the first place. Though she could see the light from the window had long since died, the room was still lit in a bright glow that seemed to seep from the very walls – another thing that seemed to be caused by magic. She supposed that they didn't want to risk bringing in candles or torches in case she tried to start a fire or use them as a weapon against the guards that waited at the inside of the door to her cell. It seemed kind of pointless though, as she had access to a dozen types of scissors and pins that she could use if she really wanted to, but attempting to use them wouldn't really help her if she really was in a land with magic. Anyway, the guards rarely came close enough for her to reach them, what with her chained wrists. They stood silently, faces pointed straight forward and hauberks held in stiff grips, not moving for almost the entire tine she had been in here, although the right hand guard seemed to be a bit uncomfortable as he occasionally shifted on his feet.

So far, she had made only two hats, as her inexperienced craftsmanship slowed her progress, both of the hats had been taken away – presumably to be tested by the Queen. Both times the guards had returned with the hat and more materials, silently staring at her with those unnerving, blank faces until she picked up the tools and started again. Exhaustion was tugging at her mind and slowing her movements, her eyes itching with tiredness, she hadn't had any proper rest for days before the Hatter kidnapped her, and the whole experience since had drained Emma emotionally and physically.

Emma could feel the wound on her shoulder with a keen fury, the skin feeling tight, hot and painful underneath the dislodged bandages, she could also feel heat all over her body, though she also felt tremors racking her form at the same time. She was pretty sure that what she was experiencing was a fever caused by an infected wound; Igor had treated it well as far as she could tell, but the lack of proper aftercare and medicine was likely to cause major issues. Over the past hour or so, Emma had started to feel a numbness slowly creeping down her arm, radiating from the injury, and increasing her worry with each passing minute.

The Sheriff had considered asking the guards for help, but she doubted they would be so inclined as to actually listen, and even if they did try to get her medical attention, she couldn't imagine that a fantasy castle that was decorated with severed heads would have a decent doctor. The only thing Emma could think to do for now was try to get the hat to work, and hope that if she did, the Queen would let her leave. From there she would try to return to Igor's house, as he was the only person in this stupid land she even knew, and then she would try to find Jefferson. As much as she knew it would make more sense for her to try to use the Hat to get back to Storybrooke, she couldn't justify abandoning Jefferson to be stuck roaming Wonderland as the Hatter until he either got himself captured or killed.

She was surprised to find that she missed him – not just because he was her best way of getting home – but because he was pleasant company, even despite his tendency to lose control of the Hatter. She missed his dry, witty, sarcastic humour, caring nature and his oddly comforting presence, but more than that she missed something that sparked inside her every time they touched – it wasn't quite chemistry – it was deeper than that, something that drew her to him. Even though she was well aware of the dangers of caring for a man who shared his headspace with a sadistic madman, she couldn't help but feel an indescribable connection to Jefferson.

"Get back to work!" Emma's head snapped up at the sound of one of the guard's voices, it was only then she realized that her hands had stopping moving and her vision seemed to have blurred over, she blinked a few times to try to clear it, but it didn't work. Her whole body was shaking violently and her head felt heavy, she tried to force her hands to pick the scissors back up to continue work, but they wouldn't move. The next moment, Emma felt her head collide with the tabletop as she collapsed forward, the potent combination of exhaustion, fever and pain sapping the last of her strength, though she remained conscious, she could barely keep her eyes open.

Emma felt a hand grip her hair roughly, tugging her head back roughly, but she just flopped weakly so that her head was against the back of the chair in which she was sat. Through the fog in her eyes she heard the guard's voice again, the tone angry and demanding. "What in blazes is wrong with you?" Emma didn't reply, but instead nudged her head in the direction of her shoulder, hoping he would get the message, but the man just shook her again, resulting in a pained cry.

Her eyes clearing just enough for her to see the other guard approach his partner, dropping his hauberk and reaching for the buttons of the leather tunic she still wore. Though her knee-jerk reaction was to try to move away from him, she forced herself to remain still as the guard pulled aside the garment to reveal the bloodstained bandages.

"Bloody seven hells, if she dies the Queen'll have our heads - again." She heard the first guard mutter in hushed, furious tones – his voice deep and somewhat gravelly, speaking as if the injury were somehow Emma's fault. She felt the second guard tugging off her tunic until it was halted by the manacles on her wrists, tangling around the metal, the guard cursed and left the tunic there, instead moving to pull at the bandages, his hands were surprisingly quick and gentle as he removed the wrappings.

"Go get a healer and bring him back here." The second guard instructed the first, but the man didn't move. "Now!" this time the aggressive guard left, obviously not fancying a meeting with the headsman's axe.

The second guard's hands moved to remove her black tank-top that she was still wearing underneath the tunic, and this time she gathered the strength to attempt to shove his hands away, though her movements were weak, the guard backed off, his hands raised in a placating gesture.

"Emma." She felt the second guard's face move close to her ear and his voice was barely audible, clearly not wanting to be overheard, shock jolted through her enough for her mind to clear slightly and she angled her face slightly towards him, focussing all her effort of staying aware. This man knew her name, she was pretty sure that no one here actually knew her name – did he know her?

"What? Who-?" full sentences were apparently currently beyond her, and she settled for spearing the man's black clothed face with a confused and questioning look. The guard put a finger up to where she supposed his lips would be, and she nodded her head slightly to indicate that she would stay quiet. She felt there was something familiar about the man's voice, and thus far he hadn't shown any ill will towards her, apart from the fact that he worked for the Queen – but Emma understood necessity of work, even if what you were doing questionable.

The guard took a quick, cursory glance towards the closed cell door, before gripping the edge of the dark cloth covering his face, tugging it up until it reached his hairline, finally revealing a startlingly familiar face. Bright blue eyes shone out of a heavily stubbled, ruggedly handsome face.

"August?" Emma gawked at him in disbelief; her already muddled brain feeling like it was splintering apart at the sight of the motorcycling author, here – in what she was now convinced was Wonderland. What the hell was he doing here? How did he get here? How did he know where she was? Did this mean he knew about magic? He had seemed to be the type who would believe in these things – what with being purposefully ambiguous, and a writer.

August nodded silently, offering her a quick smile and shaking his head as she opened her mouth to ask the questions that were roiling within her, she closed her mouth as she realized he would probably have his reasons for being so secretive. It was most likely to do with the Red Queen not discovering his presence in the castle. Seeing her frustration at his silence however, August leant closer and whispered "I'll explain later, first we need to get you help."

There was a sudden, loud bang as the door to the cell slammed open, causing them both to jump and turn to face the entrant, the first guard and another man in an official looking uniform stood in the doorway, both seemingly frozen for a moment as they stared at August's uncovered face.

There was tense moment of utter silence, before the man in the robes turned to flee the room – most likely to warn the other guards of an intruder, but was halted in the most violent of ways. The accompanying guard made a swift movement and threw his hauberk's blade into his companion's stomach in what could only be described as a temper tantrum, as he then stomped his foot on the ground before striding forwards angrily.

Both Emma and August were left in utter shock as the guard approached the latter and clipped him hard across the head. "Of all the incompetent, wood-headed morons!" The guard threw his hand to his masked face, seemingly rubbing at his temples in frustration. Emma simply sat where she was, too confused to even attempt speaking. What the hell was going on now?!

"Is this what I get for trying to help an idiot and his pet?" The guard seemed beyond sense at this point as he threw his hands in the air, seemingly exasperated, his voice rising in pitch as he spoke – no longer as deep and gravelly as before.

August straightened and fixed the guard with a confused, but piercing look. "What the hell are you on about?"

"You! You're getting in the way of a perfectly sound plan – though unnecessarily long - that allowed me to finally get revenge on the Crimson bitch!" Emma and August exchanged looks that could only be described as "what the hell is happening" – neither one of them understanding what was going on in the slightest.

"Oh for god's sake, do I have to spell it out for the both of you?" The guard reached up to his own mask and whipped it from his head in a dramatic flourish.

Emma stared in what was now far beyond shock as her gaze bounced between August and none other than Jefferson. Though, focusing her dwindling attention onto his cobalt blue eyes, she realised that it was actually still the Hatter – the darkness and lack of concern made that clear enough. Both men stared at each other for several tense seconds before Emma broke the silence.

"What the hell is going on?"

 **I'm SO SORRY about the delays! I developed a severe case of real life, it made me feel terrible and got in the way of my writing, it probably won't happen again. Answers will come eventually - I promise. Please Read, review, and point out any flaws.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Love will tear us apart**

August had not been surprised when Rumpelstiltskin had approached him at Granny's; after all, one of his main purposes in Storybrooke was to garner his attention to the point that an interaction would be forced. The farce he intended to pull on the Dark one, pretending to be his son in order to get a hold of the dagger, had been going just as planned – that was, until 'Mr Gold' decided to ask him for his help. What _had_ surprised him was that Rumpelstiltskin had come to him with a vial of blood, a battered top hat and a request that he follow Emma Swan and the Mad Hatter into Wonderland.

While he was aware of the presence of Wonderland, as he had done as much research as he possibly could into the related worlds and everything that the people on Earth believed to be Fairytales. He had read Henry's copy of 'Once upon a time' as he fixed it and inserted his own story into it, so he knew who the Hatter was and who the Red Queen really was – he was aware of the dangers of Wonderland.

He had been healthily sceptical of Rumpelstiltskin's intentions and motives when he had told him that all he needed to do was combine Emma's blood with the Hat and that it would take him to wherever she was. After all the Dark one had spent years trying to travel across worlds and by all rights it should be impossible to do so from a world without magic. But, after much arguing, bluffing and sarcasm, August had relented and agreed to try – more out of resignation for the fact that he would continue to become wood unless Emma broke the curse soon. As much as a visit to Wonderland scared him, the thought of essentially being petrified into a living wooden statue scared him far more. So he had agreed.

It wasn't only selfish interest that motivated him however; he felt a personal debt to Emma that he had never truly fulfilled. He had been sent through the wardrobe in place of her parents, and then he had abandoned her at the first opportunity just because he had been too selfish to resist the temptation placed in front of him. Granted he had only been a child himself at the time, but he had spent enough time learning about being selfless, brave and good from Jiminy Cricket and the Blue Fairy, that he should have known better. August felt that he should use this opportunity presented by 'Mr Gold' to help Emma in the way he had failed to all those years ago. This was his chance to earn his redemption.

Travelling through the Hat with only a brief warning that he wouldn't be able to return the same way was infuriating beyond belief, as the imp waited until he had already jumped into the spinning hat vortex before he called after him. August was somewhat disconcerted that he did not appear in the Hall of Doors, as the Mad Hatter was depicted to do so in Henry's book, but he instead fell through a canopy of trees and straight into the hard ground.

He had made quick work of dusting himself off and beginning his search for Emma – he didn't want to spend any more time in Wonderland than was necessary, especially not with the deteriorating state of his human flesh into wood. He had grudgingly admitted to himself that Rumpelstiltskin's spell was pretty fortunate, as he had materialised no less than fifteen feet from a group of guards who were milling around the edge of the hedge maze, just about the time that the Knave of hearts had given the order for them to peruse the Hatter and a blonde female companion.

While August had never prided himself much on being very combat experienced, as he had only been a child when he had lived in the Enchanted Forest, he had picked up enough basic scrap fighting skills from various altercations started in bars all around the world. He had been hit with another stroke of luck as one of the guards broke off to answer nature's call, and August managed to knock the man out, strip his uniform, and take it for himself before any of his fellow guards grew suspicious. Though the fortunate turn of events thus far had August in a perfect position to locate and hopefully rescue Emma, August still had no idea how he was going to get the both of them back to Storybrooke. He knew he wasn't getting back using the hat and the only person in this land that had strong enough magic to send them anywhere would probably be the Cora and that was thoroughly unlikely to happen. August had decided to get as far as he could and improvise from there onwards.

The subsequent romp through the forest and Emma's capture had gone by in a blur of endless marching that caused great strain on the tender flesh that connected his wooden leg to where it joined his hip. But in order to keep up appearances, he had kept pace and kept silent, just as the rest of the faceless guards had, though he had tried to keep a sympathetic grip on Emma as he escorted her through the maze. It had been obvious that she was in pain, and the way her muscles had tensed under his grip, he could tell that she was injured pretty badly.

He had worked hard to keep in character as he had to parade Emma about the Red Queen's castle and then stand still for hours on end as a guard. Emma's injury and obvious illness had surprisingly worked in his favour as he saw the opportunity to send the other guard away to get a healer. He hadn't dared risking trying to alert Emma of his identity any sooner than he had, as he hoped to avoid discovery for as long as possible, not having known that the guard who was accompanying him was in fact that fricking Mad Hatter himself.

Now, he stood in the awkward position of summarising the situation to Emma, who looked thoroughly unwell - pale, sweating, shaking. Blood trickling from a wound puffed red and swollen around the stitches that were practically bursting against the infected flesh. The Sherriff was clearly in bad shape, and August felt concern for the Saviour that she wouldn't survive the trip back to Storybrooke. As he finished relating his narrative in minimal detail to the barely-conscious Emma and the infuriated Hatter, he realized just how far out of his depth he was – he had no idea what to do now. The psychopath had just hauberked the only chance Emma had of proper medical care in this castle, and he had no idea what to do now that he had to factor in an injured Emma and the Hatter himself.

August reached over to gently tap on the side of Emma's face, and she attempted to shift upright in the chair, her gaze focusing in on August's face slightly – he needed her to be aware in order to get her out of here. August doubted he could carry her on his own what with his wooden leg, and he doubted the madman who was currently having what seemed to be a temper tantrum would help. Emma fixed him with a stern seeming gaze and when she spoke her voice was flat and slow.

"So both of you decided to disguise yourselves as guards, wait for an opportunity to be alone with me and then break me out?" August nodded slowly and the Hatter shrugged slightly, eyes rolling exasperatedly. "And you've just spent all night standing guarding me in role because you didn't realize the other was trying to help me too." Emma burst out into a hysterical set of giggles that unnerved both of the men in the room, exchanging incredulous looks.

"Great minds think alike" August muttered, glancing from the Hatter and back to Emma again.

Emma took one look between them and her laughter intensified tenfold, hands clutching her sides. August glanced back at the Hatter and saw that he too had a grin on his face, though his was more bemused and seemed oddly, but pleasantly, surprised. August got the distinct feeling he was missing something here, but he didn't have the time or effort to try to find out right now. After a minute or so, she calmed herself down with a few deep breaths, wiping tears clumsily off her cheeks as she pushed herself into more of a sitting position. "Sorry." She muttered, her gaze clearing slightly as it focussed on the Hatter once more.

"Uh, yeah, right, we need to get out of here." August turned back to the Hatter, who was fixing Emma with an oddly conflicted seeming look, something odd flickering behind his eyes. "Any ideas on how to get her out of here? I figured you know this place better, and you probably have a better plan than I do."

"Yes, well, while I undoubtedly had a better plan than you do, it might not be one either of you are entirely keen on." Emma stiffened next to him, and she used seemingly all of her remaining strength to lever herself into a half-standing position, leaning heavily on the table as a support.

"Let me guess, that plan involves screwing over the Queen of Hearts?" Emma's tone was strained, but oddly, forcedly calm as her green eyes pierced the Hatter's with unmatched intensity, despite her obvious fragility.

"Well if you want to put it in such a crude manner, my dear, then yes." The Hatter smirked at her tightly, an edge of something dangerous gleaming in his eyes. "Though Jefferson only let me back in because he was too weak-willed to actually do what was necessary to get us in here." He took a few steps closer to Emma as August watched, the madman towering over her in such a way that the writer felt another spike of concern and moved around the table to stand closer behind Emma. He didn't quite know what was going on right now, as the book that contained the Hatter's story only ever included the Hatter, his daughter, Regina, her father and the Queen of hearts. He didn't recall anyone called Jefferson ever being mentioned.

"We made an agreement that I would take care of getting in here to rescue Jefferson's _pretty_ _little princess_ as long as I could take my revenge on the Crimson Bitch." The Hatter reached out to cup Emma's chin, tilting it up to meet his eyes with unnerving gentleness. "Though I may have failed to mention that I intended on taking my revenge on the Queen by preventing her from ever leaving this pastel-coloured wasteland."

"And how were you planning on doing that?" Emma asked, her tone cracking slightly as the tremors in her hands intensified, her knuckles turning white as her grip on the edge of the table tightened.

"By killing you of course, what better way to end Jefferson's ridiculous infatuation _and_ taking away the only thing that can allow the Queen to fix the Hat portal?" The Hatter's hand moved down to caress her throat in a contrastingly threatening manner, August was on the verge of stepping forward to intervene in whatever the hell this was, when Emma shook her head softly and gave the Hatter a disarming smile.

"Well I'm sorry to disappoint you, but that woman apparently already left Wonderland years ago, her daughter is now queen - her name is Miranda." Emma reached her hand up to softly stroke a thumb across the hand that was wrapped loosely around her throat, the Hatter's eyes went wide and his gaze dropped to stare confusedly at Emma's hand. Even August could see the clear conflict within the man's face; something appeared to be breaking in him and the fragments bubbling to the surface.

"You're lying." The Hatter hissed, but his voice was weak and insincere, Emma reached her other hand up to cup the Hatter's face in a gesture that made August feel uncomfortable at the obvious, yet confusing, intimacy of the motion. It was strange seeing the usually stern, brisk, stubborn and downright rude Emma Swan being so affectionate – especially with a madman who threatening to kill her. But August got the distinct feeling that he shouldn't interrupt whatever this was, entranced by the swirl of emotions radiating off of them both – the tension and twisted passion tangible between them.

"Jefferson." she spoke the name while keeping her green eyes directly on the Hatter's blue ones and August could've sworn that he saw a complete shift inside of the blue pair – a literal light that shone through them, lifting the darkness that had clouded them up until now. There was an indefinite amount of time where they simply stared at each other before, before the Hatter blinked and then brought the hand that had been on Emma's throat up to his own forehead, rubbing lightly at his temples.

"Emma..." The Hatter breathed, a small smile flickering onto his lips, not looking like the ones before – seeming more genuine, less manic. "Thank you."

Emma simply smiled back weakly at him, her eyes brimming with tears, stroking her thumb across his cheekbone, before leaning forwards and capturing the other's lips in a kiss that radiated such intense passion that August felt the need to look away. Not in any of the many dalliances he had with various women in his travels, or even in the pages of any book, had he experienced how much heat and clear emotion that was involved in what Emma was currently sharing with the Mad Hatter. His arms came up to wrap around her waist, supporting her in place of the table, and her own fingers curling into his brown hair.

August very much felt the need for a distraction, and a tiny part of him was somewhat relieved when one presented itself in the form of a dozen armed guards entering the room - followed in by a swirl of crimson skirts that August could only assume to be the Queen of Hearts. Emma and the Hatter broke apart abruptly, turning to face the Queen, but their hands still joined; clearly united in solidarity against whatever madness that was about to follow.


	18. Chapter 18

**Mutilation is the most sincere form of flattery**

Emma didn't know what possessed her when she decided to kiss Jefferson - it was possibly the most impulsive and reckless thing she had ever done, and that was including stealing a bag of watches for a man who then threw her to the cops. While she certainly couldn't deny that she had wanted to do it for some time, she couldn't help but hear the little voice screaming in her head, telling her that the man she was lip-locking was sharing a head-space and body with a violent madman who wanted her dead.

Though she had now brought Jefferson back successfully several times, she still couldn't quite predict when the man she was with would suddenly disappear, and seeing as it usually seemed to be extreme outbursts of emotion that brought the Hatter out, she felt that kissing him was probably a bad idea. But somehow, Emma couldn't quite bring herself to regret doing it – the kiss had been intense, warm and passionate; tinged with that unnameable quality that she felt whenever she was near him. It had been different from the first time he had kissed her, that kiss had been desperate – as if he had been grasping at the nearest chance for affection he could find, as if she had been his salvation. Not to mention the fact that she had been thoroughly unprepared for it then, what with him having kidnapped her, and her using the opportunity to stab him and attempt an escape. This kiss she had been compelled to do by something deep inside her that sought his affection more than her own self-preservation, she had been so glad to see him, and not the Hatter.

While they shared the same body, the same voice and other such attributes, she felt undeniable safety and connection with Jefferson that vanished as soon as the Hatter appeared. She also couldn't deny the obvious physical attraction she had for him – his soft, messy brown hair, pale, angular features, dark brows and pouty pinks lips were all enough to make her heart pound that little bit faster in her chest. But by far his most striking feature was his brilliant, mesmerising, intense blue eyes; as they had kissed she couldn't help but stare deeply into them, marvelling at the same time that his lips were just as soft as they looked. Jefferson and the Hatter may share the same stunning good looks and husky voice, the darkness and undeniably cruel edge that the Hatter held within his eyes and expression tainted the beauty into something that while still attractive, was also one big warning sign. The Hatter was the sort of man that even the most delusional teenage, 'bad-boy' obsessed girls would avoid – the white hot crazy radiated off of him in a way that made the hairs stand up on Emma's arms. It made her twice as wary of him as she would be of any other man, which was certainly saying something, as she was generally a solitary and aloof person by nature – keeping anyone else at arm's length unless absolutely necessary. With the Hatter, she felt the need to throw something at him and just run.

Now she stood, hand clasped in Jefferson's, shaking with the effort of keeping herself upright in front of the new Queen of Hearts and a dozen armed – decidedly unfriendly – guards. As she felt August move to stand on her other side, she realised that neither of her would-be-rescuers was actually in any position to get them out of here. From what she had seen of August, she doubted that he was any good in a fight and Jefferson was unlikely to be much help unless he brought back the Hatter – and she wasn't about to let that happen. As much as she was painfully aware of her own current physical weakness, she was determined that she wouldn't go down without a fight – she wouldn't let either of these men be killed in the name of protecting her.

"I have to admit I didn't expect you to ever return here." Miranda said, her voice calm and patronising as she eyed Jefferson in a seemingly curious manner – almost as if he was a piece of interesting wildlife. Emma felt Jefferson's hand tighten slightly in her own, and she squeezed his hand in a reassuring gesture. Though this wasn't the same Queen of Hearts that had abused him into insanity, she knew that this was still probably too close a situation to what he had endured before – the same room, the same title, the same land and the same threat.

"Well I had to see if the rumours were true, I must say I'm disappointed that the old Crimson cow isn't dead, _and_ that she only left a substitute behind to manage the decapitations and rosebushes while she was gone." Jefferson gave her a tight smile, obviously trying to affect the Hatter's carefree and cocky demeanour in the face of danger, though Emma was pleased to note that she could still see the familiar lightness in his eyes that assured her it was still him.

"Oh I'm sure that while I'm only a substitute I can still arrange a triple be-heading for you, the Saviour your lovely companion." She drawled, her odd-coloured eyes flicking suggestively over to August at the last part of her sentence. August looked surprised and decidedly uncomfortable at this and averted his gaze to the ground, his cheeks reddening slightly, had the situation not been so dire, Emma would have been tempted to laugh at the almost school-boyish reaction. He had seemed so self-assured when he had asked her out before, but then she supposed having a psychopath flirting with you would unnerve anyone. She probably knew that better than most.

"Yeah, I think we'll take a rain check on that thanks." Emma stated, levelling a hard stare at the Queen, though she was unsure of how she should approach the situation in such a way that they would all leave here with their heads.

"And how do you propose on stopping me Saviour? Using the same magic that you used to make the Hat work?" The Queen asked in that same irritatingly calm tone, "Oh, but you can't can you?" Emma gritted her teeth slightly at the repeated use of the 'S' word, still not liking the title she had apparently been saddled with since before she was born. How on earth this woman knew of it, Emma didn't know, but at the moment she didn't really care – she opened her mouth to reply with a rather choice suggestion as to where she could shove the title, before Jefferson took a step forward, releasing her hand as he did so.

"Emma may not be able to get the Hat working, but I can, let her and the Puppet go and I'll make it work for you." Jefferson bluffed with a clenched jaw; he was attempting to give himself up back to the very fate that he had escaped from years ago – for Emma – and she wasn't about to let that happen.

"No, he can't do it – he's lying, just look at his track record." Emma spoke quickly before anyone could cut her off again, Jefferson turned and gave her a hard glare that clearly said "shut up", but the Queen merely let out a light laugh.

"While my mother may have seen something worth keeping in you, dear Hatter, I see nothing but a foolish madman who failed for years in his attempts to fix the one thing that gave him identity." Jefferson's head dipped and his eyes flickered slightly, memories and shame clearly plaguing his thoughts. Emma reached out and touched his arm lightly, attempting to reassure him that his attempt to get her out of this was appreciated, even if it hadn't worked.

"I grow weary of this idle chatter." The Queen said in a detached tone, waving a hand towards the trio of Storybrookers. "Detain them."

At the Queen's gesture, the real guards moved forward, two men grabbing August and Jefferson by the arms and fixing manacles to their wrists, though each man tensed, they did not fight, as neither of them was really in a position to do so. Two other guards forced Emma back down into the chair and another removed the manacles from her, instead forcing her wrists into restraints that were fitted into the surface of the table. These ones allowing her no mobility and the strain of the awkward leant over position putting unnecessary strain on her shoulder, despite herself, she cried out in pain, her already spotted vision darkening further. Jefferson pulled slightly at the grip of his own guards and his brow furrowed in concern, clearly agitated that he couldn't help her.

"What happened here?" the Queen asked, tutting in faux concern, approaching the table to gaze down at Emma with a slightly sadistic gleam in her eyes. Emma gritted her teeth once more and averted her gaze from both Jefferson and the Queen – she didn't want to show any more weakness that she already had; she didn't want the Queen to know how much it hurt.

"I believe I asked you a question." The Queen purred, the gleam in her eyes had become more pronounced now, she was clearly enjoying the position of power she held, and the little game she was playing. Emma levelled a silent glare at her, refusing to answer as per her usual stubborn nature – she may not be able to fight physically right now, but it didn't mean she would stop resisting altogether.

"Stubborn are we?" The Queen asked, her lip curling in apparent amusement. "Did your friend ever tell you what my mother did to him when he failed to acquest to her requests?"

Emma saw Jefferson stiffen, his face turn white at the Queen's words, he began to pull slightly, almost subconsciously at the guards hold as his eyes bored into Miranda – the hate almost tangible in them. Emma remained silent, refusing to play her game.

"I was only a girl at the time, but my mother insisted that I witness it; knowing it would make me stronger - a better ruler." Miranda's smile was sickening. "I guess you could call it mother-daughter bonding time."

"Mother did so want to get back to her realm; she wanted to return to Regina, so that she could re-unite our family and help my sister get her revenge on your insipid parents. After Regina foolishly banished her to Wonderland, there were so few ways in which to return to the Enchanted Forest." Miranda's gaze turned to Jefferson and her smile widened slightly. "But when _he_ brought Regina here to rescue her father, my mother thought she had found the perfect way to leave, she just thought it would take some persuasion to encourage our dear Hatter to fix her a portal home."

Emma could see that Jefferson was shaking now, her face paler than she had ever seen it and his fists clenched tight against the metal of his shackles.

"When taking his head for the tenth time or so failed to prove as adequate motivation, my mother demonstrated to me the benefits of branding, cutting, flogging and my personal favourite; water-boarding." Miranda slowly moved around the room as she spoke until she stood by Jefferson, reaching a hand out to gently squeeze his face. Jefferson flinched, but stood his ground, his eyes burning and his gaze fixed straight ahead of him – not looking at anyone.

"When he still proved uncooperative we moved on to starvation and sensory deprivation." The Queen gripped Jefferson's chin more tightly, wrenching his gaze down to meet her own. "Do you remember it? Days on end spent alone in a pitch black room? Bound, blindfolded, gagged, and alone - nearly dying of hunger and thirst?"

Emma stared on in horror at her words, disgusted at how the woman seemed to be taking absolute sadistic pleasure in traumatising and torturing people. Emma couldn't help the image of Jefferson alone, abused and dying locked away in the dark burning itself into her mind. This was undoubtedly when the Hatter was born. Jefferson isolated and in agony; stuck with nothing but the voice in his head, that likely grew with each passing hour until it had become an identity of its own. She could feel the bubbling rage that had been building within her starting to boil over, tugging futilely on the metal encased around her wrists.

"The beauty of my mother's magic, combined with the natural magic of Wonderland, she could heal him from the brink of death. Though there were still scars, she could carry on just as before, layering them _over_ and _over_ and _over_ again." The Queen turned back to Emma, approaching her once more, the dark gleam glowing like a beacon behind her odd-coloured eyes, her smirk twisting her beautiful features into something ugly. "How would you like to have some matching scars of your own?"

 **Hello people, I know this is getting pretty dark and off down the bloody rabbit-hole, but it's all relevant to the plot, there will be some violence to come, but it won't be too gratuitous or over the top, I promise. If anyone has any suggestions, questions or anything, feel free to review or PM me as I really appreciate the feedback.**

 **Hope everyone is liking it thus far, please R &R.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Such horrible things**

Jefferson couldn't believe that every nightmare he had had for the past thirty years was being surpassed in this one moment as he watched the look of terror that spread across Emma's usually stoic face. He continued to pull at the grip of the two guards holding him, and he could see Pinocchio doing the same thing out of the corner of his eye.

Just knowing that Emma was about to endure even a fraction of what he had gone through at the hands of the Red Queen was enough torment to make him consider releasing the Hatter once more, in order to have the ruthless, blind ability to kill everyone who would dare lay a hand on Emma. He knew it would be a bad idea however, as once the Hatter was free; he would most likely abandon Emma and go for the daughter of the Red Queen as a form of revenge. He couldn't let this happen to Emma. She had suffered enough already.

He could feel the Hatter tearing at the barrier between them, begging to be let out once more so that he could exact his revenge on Cora by killing her psychotic bitch of a daughter. Jefferson pushed him back as forcefully as he could – he couldn't do that; not again.

"With all due respect, your majesty, I don't think this is a good use of your time." Jefferson cringed as he heard the Puppet's voice from behind him – he was obviously laying on the sugar in an attempt to placate the Queen. Both Jefferson and the Hatter mentally smirked at this. If Miranda were anything like her mother – which Jefferson was pretty sure by now that she was – she would not respond well to the mindless doting tone that Pinocchio was currently using. Jefferson was proved correct almost instantly as the Queen ordered for him to be gagged and moved out of her way.

Miranda then turned her cold gaze back to Emma, smirking slightly and clicking her fingers to one of the men who had been stationed by the cell door, the guard moved forward and Jefferson recognised the weapon he was currently holding as the headsman's axe. The scar on his throat seemed to tingle at the very sight of the curved blade and he loathed the thought that Emma was about to experience its bite first hand.

"Off with her head."

The headsman approached Emma, stopping about a foot or so away and drawing back his arms in preparation to swing the axe with what – in any other world – would be deadly precision. Jefferson struggled harder than ever against the grip of his guard's, elbowing and pulling as much as he could in a vain attempt to reach Emma and stop this from happening to her.

Jefferson felt a strange sense of pride as he saw that Emma did not flinch or close her eyes as he himself had done, and merely stared resolutely at the Queen – her eyes hard and shining with determination. He felt his admiration for the woman grow as he saw that despite the situation, she was acknowledging her fear and overcoming it by remaining calm – true bravery, the sort that only a true saviour could muster. Even the Hatter was impressed at the woman's grit – while the Hatter was not usually impressed by anything, he did appreciate determination and attitude. However, Jefferson was surprised to feel a flash of anger and indignation at the harm that was about to fall upon Emma, but then figured it was more about the fact that it was someone else doing the harming.

The blow that separated Emma's head from her shoulders was swift and clean, her chained body flopping limply back against the back of the chair and the headsman holding her disembodied head up by her long blonde hair. Her face displayed only the barest signs of shock as her head wobbled slightly in the headsman's grip, her lips parting slightly as she panted, seemingly in an attempt to calm herself.

"Well now, how does that feel saviour?" Miranda's voice was sickly sweet as treacle as she watched both of their reactions in obvious glee. "You'll get your body back in due course, I just thought that you should experience a little of what our dear Hatter did, you'll need to be attached to your body to feel everything that I intend to do to it."

"Stop this!" Jefferson heard his voice before he really registered deciding to speak – he knew that his protests would have little effect on Miranda's decisions; in fact they would most likely only make things that much worse for Emma. Miranda's amused gaze flickered to Jefferson for a few moments, before returning back to Emma and then her smirk widened once more.

Miranda then sent a nod to the guards surrounding Jefferson, seeming to correctly interpret the signal, one of the guards threw his fist solidly into Jefferson's stomach, he folded over with the force of the punch, winded and bringing his chained hands up to clutch at the bruised area. The other guard took his vulnerable position to then bring a steel-toe capped boot up into Jefferson's injured leg with such force that he couldn't withhold his cry of pain as the stitches Igor had sewn tore open. His leg shuttered and he collapsed to the cobbled floor in pain, only to feel another boot connect with his hunched over back, causing his chin to connect hard with the stones. He tasted coppery blood as he bit his own tongue at the impact with the floor. The Hatter roared once more, doubling his attempts to fight through the barrier between them, more agony assaulting Jefferson's mind as he fought to repress the Hatter's advances.

"Leave him alone!" Emma's voice cut through the pain clouding his mind, his eyes snapped up to meet Emma's, her forest-green pair were filled with concern, despite the fact that she had just been decapitated, she was more worried about him. She turned her gaze to Miranda and the concern changed to fury, the Queen merely continued to look amused, her scarlet painted lips twisted in a cruel smirk.

"So you _do_ care about him." The Queen mused, eyes flicking between the two. "It was rather obvious that he was head-over-heels for you, but I wasn't convinced that the feelings were reciprocated."

Emma's gaze flicked downwards, before realizing that the only thing to look at there was her own headless body and returned her sights to the Queen once more. Jefferson felt a slight stirring of hope within his heart at Emma's reaction - was it possible that she felt what he did? Or was this simply more of the Queen's manipulation and Emma was reacting out of discomfort?

"I now find myself in the fortunate of having two people who have successfully made working Hats, _and_ the motivation to make them get it to work again." Her smirk was so smug and self-satisfied that it hurt. "You are both going to stay here and work until you get the portal to function. And you are each going to be the other's motivation to do so."

Emma and Jefferson exchanged concerned glances, Jefferson pushing himself up onto his knees with his bound hands. Emma took an unnecessary breath before asking the question that was on both of their minds. "What if we can't get it to work?"

"For every time one of your hats fails, the other will be punished." Miranda said simply. "I am a patient woman, I am willing to wait – the fact that you have yet to break Regina's curse means that none of us will ever age." Her cold, cold eyes glistened as she looked at Emma. "You have all the time in the world."

Jefferson felt a tug at his heart at her words, the icy realization that while no-one from Storybrooke, Wonderland, or any of the curse-affected worlds would age – Emma would, she could very well die of old age before either of them got the hat to work. They had to get out of here, if not only for the sake of themselves, but for the sake of Henry; while Grace would continue to be ten years old for as long as the curse lasted, Henry would age just as his mother did. He couldn't allow Henry to be left in the hands of Regina – thinking that Emma had abandoned him, growing up further without his real mother.

"Emma isn't affected by the curse – she will continue to age, she could easily die long before you get what you want." Jefferson told the Queen, his tone pleading. He felt Emma's confused gaze on him, but forced himself to not look at her as he focussed on trying to convince the Queen.

"Well that's even more incentive for you to get the portal working soon then isn't it?" Miranda replied demurely, before waving a hand to the guards by the cell door, who opened it for her as she moved to leave once more.

As she left, she waved her hand and another chair appeared in a cloud of crimson smoke opposite Emma's headless body, she then called back over her shoulder in a nonchalant fashion. "Give her back her body, restrain the others and let them go to work." All but four of the guards left the cell with the Queen, slamming the door behind them. The two who were still restraining Jefferson pulled him to his feet and attached his chains to the table opposite where Emma's body still sat slumped, pushing him down into the chair Miranda had conjured.

The Puppet was chained to the wall off the side of them, away from the table and looking decidedly dejected about his current state as he slumped down to sit on the cobbled floor with his legs stretched out in front of him.

The guard who was still holding onto Emma's head moved it down to align with the bloody stump of her neck, causing her to wince at the sudden change of position. Another guard plucked a needle and thread from the surface of the table where it lay amongst the other materials, he then approached Emma and began the arduous and painful task of sewing her head back onto her body. Jefferson remembered every single time that he had had to go through the agonising process and winced in sympathy as Emma was forced to go through it herself. Jefferson reached forward and placed his hand upon hers in an attempt to sooth her as much as he was able while restrained across the table from her.

For the first few minutes of the procedure Jefferson knew that Emma couldn't feel his hand on hers as she was still disconnected from her body, but then he felt her fingers twitch and then tighten around his own. He looked up at her with a weak smile and she returned it with some trepidation; obviously appreciative of his attempt to comfort her.

Once Emma's head was re-attached, the guard cut off the end of the thread and both he and his partner left the cell, slamming the door shut with a final click behind them. Emma stretched her tender neck with a wince and rolled her head around as if to test the mobility, Jefferson remembered the stiffness of having a limb sewn back on and offered her a sympathetic grimace.

"You would have thought with all that magic, she would be able to reattach a head in an easier way, but no – needles it is." Emma's voice was layered with sarcasm, but Jefferson could hear her resolve starting to crack as she finally let her guard down now that that threat was no longer present. Her eyes were wide and shining, like she was trying to repress tears, and her hands were shaking once more, so much so that the shackles on her wrists were rattling against the tabletop.

"Emma." Jefferson coaxed, her gaze flicked up to him and he gently stroked a thumb across the back of her hand.

"I'm alright." Emma sighed, her eyes avoiding direct contact with his own.

"This is my fault, and I'm sorry." Jefferson whispered fervently, silently begging her to meet his eyes, which after a few moments, she did. "I'm going get us out of here; I will do whatever it takes."

Emma caught onto the double-meaning behind his words and her eyes filled with terror and anger "No, you aren't doing this – you can't – I won't let you, Jefferson, please."

Jefferson closed his eyes, tears pressing at the back of them as he hardened his resolve, he would do this, he would do this for Emma – it was the only way. When the time was right, he would do exactly what was needed to free them both.

 **Sorry again about the delays! Thank you as ever to the loyal reviewers and welcome to the 'new' one LizPotter17!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Necessary Evils and all that they entail**

Emma and Jefferson worked silently on their own hats for several minutes, the latter occasionally giving Emma non-verbal tips whenever she looked uncertain or if he saw areas that could be improved upon. But for the most part they got on with the task before them, Emma's hands still shook as she worked and she had to focus hard in order to see past the black spots that still riddled her vision. While the temporary decapitation had obviously been a thoroughly disconcerting and painful experience, it had given her a reprieve from the infection, exhaustion and pain racing through her body - thanks to the bizarre sensation of being a disembodied head. Emma could feel every pent up emotion within her that had built up over the past few days – lord, had it only been days? – And she knew that if she didn't rest and take time to deal with it all, it would likely crush her. Was this how Jefferson had felt? The separation from a child, shock, pain, anger, an endless exhaustion and the same helplessness?

Her main solace was in the fact that she was not alone, both Jefferson's and August's presences were a welcome comfort, though she also felt guilt eating at her for the position they were all now stuck in. She doubted that August appreciated being chained and gagged in the Red Queen's castle, or that he was probably the most expendable in the eyes of the Queen. Occasionally Emma glanced over to where August was sat, his legs stretched out in front of him and looking decidedly irritated about the gag – unfortunately for him, his chains were too short to allow him to remove it. Neither Emma or Jefferson had much leeway either, as the chains only allowed them enough slack to reach across the table to collect materials – their hands could touch, but neither could release the other. Emma had considered using the pins that were strewn about the table to attempt to pick to locks of the shackles, but she was sure they were probably going to be much more difficult to pick than those of handcuffs she had encountered in her youth.

But more than anything, Emma hated that she was responsible for Jefferson being placed in a position where he was once again considering releasing the Hatter. She wasn't stupid – she knew that at the next opportunity, Jefferson would call upon the Hatter's ruthless, manipulative nature in order to attempt an escape. She didn't want him to lose himself again, especially now that the Hatter had no obvious goal – before she was sure that his main target was the Red Queen, but now that the original Red Queen was gone, she wasn't sure what the Hatter would want. Whatever it was though, she could be pretty sure that from his previous behaviour, it would most likely not be in her favour – or Jefferson's.

After another half an hour or so of working, Jefferson had completed his own hat – a maroon coloured top-hat with a black band around the brim - his skills allowing his work to be that much quick and efficient than Emma's. Jefferson sighed and stretched out his hands, working cramps out of his wrists before turning over his shoulder and calling towards the cell door in a forcibly calm tone. "Got one for testing."

A few moments and several lock clicks later and one of the guards entered the cell, striding over silently to the table to retrieve the completed hat, he then strode out, this time not locking the door behind him – not that it mattered in the position that the prisoners were currently in. Emma supposed this meant that he would probably return soon, likely to either deliver punishment or bring new materials. Emma continued to work for another minute or so, before the trembling in her hands increased to the point where the scissors she held dropped numbly from her fingers, clattering to the tabletop. She brought her trembling hands up to her face, her skin feeling clammy and hot under fingers, she felt a hand reach forward to gently clasp her wrists, pulling her hand away.

Jefferson's sympathetic blue eyes met hers and she offered him a weak smile, she didn't want to be so weak in front of him – she wasn't used to being overwhelmed by anything; she was used to being in control of her emotions and always being a step ahead of any situation. Up until she came to Storybrooke, and now Wonderland, she had never experienced anything she couldn't think she could handle, but now she was being constantly barraged by magic, madness, torture, fairy-tales coming to life and complex emotions that she attempted to repress for as long as she could remember. Now, the fate of her, August and Jefferson relied on both of them being able to produce magic hat portals! Since when had her life gotten so massively screwed up?

"I'm sorry...Jefferson...I..." Emma was cut off as Jefferson shook his head at her and pressed a soft kiss to the palm of her hand, his eyes were full of conflicted emotions – guilt being prevalent amongst them.

"Don't apologise, you haven't done anything wrong, there is nothing wrong with showing your emotions to someone who cares about you Emma." She felt her heart quicken at his words, and she felt the tears push at the back of her eyes once more.

"I'm...not used to being out of my depth... or dealing with this much, this quickly." Emma explained hesitantly, her voice faltering as she felt keenly aware of Jefferson's piercing, yet soft gaze on her – it made her skin tingle with warmth and her insides squirm in a way she hadn't ever experienced before. Not even when she had been with Neal. "Plus, the shock and pain probably aren't helping anything."

Both of them shared an awkward, watery laugh, until they heard an annoyed huff of breath from across the room. Emma jolted and turned to look over at August, who was looking very uncomfortable at the interaction going on in front of him, as there was no way he could intervene or give them privacy. Emma let out another awkward giggle and offered August and apologetic smile.

"This is the quietest I've ever heard you – might be an improvement actually." Emma teased, Jefferson snorted with laughter and August rolled his eyes, rocking his head back to rest against the stone wall once more.

"He's not the only one complaining." Jefferson commented in a low voice, his free head reaching up to rub at his temples in such a way that Emma was sure that it was the Hatter causing him trouble – she couldn't imagine him being very happy as an unwilling witness to a genuine moment of bonding.

"Tell him to stuff it." Emma muttered and Jefferson let out another snort of sardonic laughter, raising his eyebrow at her. He ducked his head to brush his lips against the back of her hand, his brow creasing for a moment as the Hatter no doubt objected.

"His response to that is not fit for a lady's ears." It was Emma's turn to raise an eyebrow at his remark; she could only imagine what threats or curses the Hatter must be throwing at both her and Jefferson right now.

"What about a Queen's?" Emma jerked her hand from Jefferson's grip as Miranda appeared in a cloud of red smoke beside the table, the hat Jefferson had made clutched in her crimson-clawed hand.

Jefferson's gaze turned hard and he ducked his head slightly, Emma turned to glare up at the Queen who stared serenely back at her. "I'm sure there's a whole different vocabulary of words one could use to describe you, _your majesty_."

Miranda's jaw tightened slightly, but a smirk spread across her lips nonetheless at the venom present in Emma's tone. She threw the hat down onto the floor beside Jefferson, clearly displeased with how it had performed in her test – that didn't bode well. "I would warn you watch that insolent tongue of yours, but you're going to be punished for _his failure_ anyway, so it really doesn't matter."

Jefferson flinched at her words, but Emma could see that he wasn't fully focussed on the Queen or the situation at hand, there was a shifting of shades within his blue eyes that she could tell he was conversing with the Hatter. Whether he was trying to repress him or call him out, Emma wasn't certain, but she hoped that he would choose the right decision – she wasn't worth him losing himself to the Hatter.

"Why do you want to get out of this world anyway?" Emma asked, she knew she was stalling from the inevitable pain that was coming her way, but she was also genuinely curious. Jefferson's hands suddenly closed tightly around hers, the grip so strong that Emma looked up at him in shock. To her horror, she was met with the dark eyes of the Hatter – a sadistic gleam shining in them and a playfully cruel smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"She's a Queen here, but her mother clearly didn't want to stick around for her sake – she was more interested in going after her precious Regina and leaving her youngest here to look after her castle." His gaze and words were aimed at Emma, but Emma could see that he was getting to Miranda as her cold, cold eyes were now solely fixed upon him. "Cora was a heartless bitch and from what I know of Regina and I've seen of you, she can't exactly have been mother of the year; maybe she just decided you were a disappointment – mommy's little monster."

Emma wasn't sure what the Hatter was doing – why he was very deliberately provoking Miranda and digging into every exposed nerve that the woman clearly had – but it was definitely working. Her face was now a bright enough red to match her dress and Emma half-expected her to start yelling "Off with their heads!" again any moment. What happened was much worse.

A magical fireball appeared within the Queen's outstretched palm and she advanced threateningly upon the Hatter with blazing fury in her odd-coloured eyes. The Hatter smirked up at her with a quirk of his head and that was clearly the last straw for the infuriated Queen – she flexed her hand and the fireball flew towards him, the air around it sizzling with heat as it passed. The Hatter made no move to get out of its path, but at the last possible moment, he leant back in his chair and pulled up his chained hands so that the length of chain that attached him to the table was hit instead. The heat of the magical flames was so intense that they melted straight through the metal and scorched the stone of the wall behind them.

The Hatter moved so quickly that the Queen didn't have time to register her shock, let alone defend herself, as he grabbed the chair he had just been sitting on and swung the heavy wood at her head with a sickening crunch. Miranda crumpled in a heap of red silk, bustles and velvet to the stone floor; Emma stared on in shock, not quite processing what had just happened. The Hatter stood for a moment, staring down at the unconscious Queen in clear loathing, but also with a strange hint of indecision. He then blinked and turned to Emma with a decidedly smug look on his handsome face, though it was laced with irritation. Emma wasn't sure whether she should be relieved or scared right now.

"Hello again my dear." The Hatter quirked her a Cheshire grin and picked the fallen hat up off of the ground, placing it on his head in a way deliberately reminiscent of the way he had back in his mansion in Storybrooke.

"What are you going to do?" Emma asked; her voice tight with anticipation. The Hatter smirked at her and rolled his eyes in exasperation as if she had asked an incredibly foolish question.

"Now, now, hush dear. The guards are likely going to come to investigate the disturbance any minute now and I think it would be in everyone's best interests if we left this place before that happens."

"You're going to help me escape? What about August? You're not going to try to kill me again are you?" Emma questioned, her eyebrows disappearing into her hair as they rose in incredulity.

"I've recently... re-evaluated my stance on you, and I'm even in such a generous mood that I'll let the puppet free from his strings too if you want, but that isn't what's important." The Hatter seemed to be growing impatient and he even looked a bit uncomfortable. "Now if you'll just get yourself out of those shackles we'll be out of here in no time."

"I can't pick them, they-" Emma was cut off as the Hatter grabbed the chains and used them to tug her to her feet harshly, his face was suddenly inches from her own and his eyes were gleaming, dark and hard as onyx.

"I'm not talking about your silly little pin tricks Emma; I'm talking about magic." The Hatter's first use of her name and the closeness of his face caused Emma's heart to pound fast and hard in her chest. "Now you can either wake up and believe in yourself, or you can lose your hands – either way we're getting out of here."


	21. Chapter 21

**Same kind of bad as me**

At the hatter's barely veiled threat to remove her hands, Emma felt a surge of adrenaline that washed away some of the fog from her mind and made her spine straighten slightly at the presence of danger. Emma's survival instincts had always sent her adrenaline into overdrive whenever she sensed a potential threat; that, along with her ability to tell when someone was lying had both served her well thus far in her life.

She was sure that the Hatter would go through with his threat should she fail to do as he asked, but she was still dubious of the idea that she had magic – even if she had made the hat work. Emma was the sort of person that preferred hard, visual evidence before she was willing to belief in it – the only reason she had chosen to buy into everything magical and fairy-tale so far was because it would be foolish not believe what was directly in front of her face. But the idea that she had been born with magic and could use it now was still a bit of a stretch.

"I thought we'd had this discussion." Emma said in an exasperated tone, tugging pointedly at her shackles while giving the Hatter an irritated look. "Even if I do have magic – I don't know how to use it - the last time was a complete accident."

The Hatter gave her an equally exasperated look that was also laced with such frustration that Emma swore it could have melted the shackles had he cared to turn his dark gaze to them. "It's rather simple my dear, you focus on what you want and will it to happen." He spoke as if it were the simplest thing in the world and Emma stood shakily to face him with a scornful look.

"If it were that easy I'm pretty sure I would have never had any problems in my life if all it took was wishing them away!" Emma cried, thinking of all the scrapes she could and would have gotten out of if what the Hatter said were true. The Hatter looked slightly uncomfortable at this and gave her an eye roll, waving his hands in the air in an unnecessarily dramatic gesture.

"Look, if you want a magic expert the nearest one if currently bleeding on the floor in front of you." The Hatter said, gesturing to the Queen who was still crumpled on the cobbled stones. "But unfortunately, all you have is me – now _focus!"_

Emma sighed and turned her annoyed gaze to the cold metal that was shackled around her wrists, she used her frustration to fuel her glare and thought about the chains breaking. Nothing happened. She let out an irritated huff and looked back up to the Hatter with an 'I told you so' expression clearly written on her face.

She was surprised when a moment later she felt the Hatter's still bound hands grasp her wrists, just below where the manacles were fixed. His grip was so uncharacteristically gentle that Emma thought for a moment that Jefferson was back in control, but looking back up into his eyes she saw that the darkness was still present in them, but it was somehow... softer. Emma could still distinguish the darkness and harsh nature that defined the Hatter from Jefferson, but there was no denying that there was definitely something different – she wasn't sure whether to be reassured or disturbed by the change.

"You can do this Emma." Just like his gaze and touch, the Hatter's tone was uncharacteristically tender, though his posture betrayed his tension, for once; he didn't let it overcome him as it had done before. "You just need the right motivation." Emma swallowed to moisten her suddenly dry throat and nodded, moving her gaze back to the shackles and focussing all her attention on them. Deciding to close her eyes, she imagined the metal breaking apart under the force of her will, imagined them snapping with the sudden warmth she could feel bubbling under her skin.

There was a sudden bang and Emma's eyes snapped open in shock. The door to the cell was now standing open and the Hatter turned his back on her, releasing her wrists and turning his attention to the four guards now filing into the room. Though the Hatter was now free from the chain attaching him to the table, his wrists were still cuffed together so as he came forward to meet the armed men, he was at a distinct disadvantage. His bound state combined with his injured leg and the lack of weapons meant that as he kicked and ducked around the guards, Emma could see that he wouldn't last long against them at all.

Emma watched on in concern as one of the guards stepped up behind the Hatter and lifted his hauberk in preparation to bring it down on the Hatter's back. The madman was too preoccupied with dodging the others attacks to notice the one behind him and Emma felt her dread, anger and concern peak. She cried out a warning, causing the Hatter to turn just as the guard was abruptly thrown backwards across the room with a blast of white light. Emma stared down at her outstretched hands in shock. She had just done that. She had thrown the guard away like a rag doll. She had used magic.

Her fear had saved the Hatter and now she could feel the warmth flowing through her, it felt like sunshine was in her very veins, pulsing through her with every erratic beat of her heart. The guards, who had paused in their attack of the Hatter at her display of magic, now turned their attention to her, advancing with their weapons raised. Emma flicked her hand at the men, sending them flying back across the room and into the walls, where they collapsed to the ground in undignified heaps, weapons clattering around them. She became aware of both the Hatter and August staring at her in shock and awe.

"I guess you were right about me just needing motivation." Emma mumbled, lowering her shaking hands, she could feel the warmth still flowing through her body – warm and sharp, it was oddly comforting.

"Of course it was right, I said it." The Hatter huffed in a tone closer to his usual sarcastic, cocky manner, still staring at her with an unfathomable expression on his face that was starting to make her feel uncomfortable. Emma heard a series of muffled grumbles from near the wall that reminded her of August's presence in the room, Emma turned her gaze to her shackles once more and the metal snapped quickly, she rubbed at her wrists thankfully after their lengthy incarceration.

It seemed that now she had started, her magic was eager to follow her commands – like unblocking a tap, the flow was now strong and seemingly endless. She flicked her hand at the Hatter and his own shackles fell to the floor with a clatter, she then crossed the room shakily to where August was sat and released him as well. Emma offered him her good arm as he pushed himself to his feet in an awkward manner, favouring one leg as if the other was unbearably stiff. August reached up and removed the cloth from his mouth, working his jaw around and looking relieved.

"Finally! I thought I was going to have to put up with you two making goo-goo eyes at each other forever." August grumbled, rolling his eyes at them. Emma pointedly ignored him and turned back to the Hatter who was staring down at the Red Queen once more, a sly expression on his face that told Emma it was time to leave before he turned psychotic again... or the Queen woke up.

"We need to go, now." Emma said, her newfound magic lending her strength that allowed her to keep on her feet and her vision mostly clear, however she wasn't sure how long this would last. If it were anything like her adrenaline rushes, it would likely run out in a matter of minutes, and she would rather get as far away from this place as possible before that happened.

"You're right, grab the Puppet and let's go." The Hatter seemed to have snapped himself out of his reverie, dragging his gaze from the Queen and moving around the unconscious guards and to the open cell door. The Hatter paused to grab two long bladed axes from the bodies, throwing one to August and moving down the hall with the other clutched in readiness. August caught the weapon but visibly grimaced at the name, sending a glare at the Hatter's back, Emma couldn't contain her curiosity and as they moved out of the cell and back down the corridor, she asked "Why does he keep calling you that?"

"Because of who I was in the Enchanted Forest." August replied, looking decidedly awkward, his cheeks turning crimson under the dark stubble. "I'm kind of... Pinocchio."

Emma fixed him with a dubious stare as they jogged beside each other down the long corridors – August's limp now more pronounced, though Emma couldn't see any visible injuries. They both kept their voices low in an effort to keep as inconspicuous as possible. "Pinocchio? Seriously?"

"Yeah, but I'd really rather you kept calling me August." Emma snorted with laughter at his school-boy like expression as he averted his gaze from her down to his shoes – clearly not fond of his real identity.

"Fine, but seriously, you got the opportunity to make a new identity for yourself and you went with 'August. W. Booth' - that's possibly the most obviously fake name ever."

August – or Pinocchio, apparently – opened his mouth to reply but was cut off as the Hatter halted up ahead of them and hissed at them to be quiet. The Hatter's warning came not a moment too soon as a dozen or more armed guards appeared in the main hall ahead of them. Emma raised her hands in preparation to fling the men away, while August and the Hatter raised their stolen weapons in defence.

Emma sent the first three guards flying back into the men behind them with a flick of her hand and the Hatter made quick work of moving forward to finish off each man once he was down. She could see the manic grin on his face as he sliced and stabbed his way through the guards, moving with a vicious agility that was completely his own – clearly in his element. While Emma was somewhat disgusted at the clear excitement that the Hatter was getting from killing these men, she could still appreciate the dexterity and swift skill of his fighting style.

August was clearly inexperienced and somewhat more moral when it came to fighting, but he managed to render three of the guards incapacitated while Emma and the Hatter took care of the rest. Emma felt a certain thrill of adrenaline alongside the surge of magic in her veins as she moved into the fray, sweeping legs out from underneath men with well placed kicks and blasts of magic for the Hatter to then take advantage of.

Eventually, there were no men left standing apart from the three Storybrookers, who stood looking at each other, panting with exertion. The Hatter was still grinning manically, and his eyes were alight with an odd mixture of glee and stunned surprise as he gazed at Emma, the surprise clear as he spoke. "You fight well - we make a good team."

"Yeah, but we should get out of here before more come." Emma said in a breathless tone, taking the lead and jogging towards the main gateway that led to the hanging-head gardens. Behind her she heard a hushed remark from the Hatter that was so quiet she almost wasn't sure she heard it.

"I now think I see why you find her so interesting."

 **Thank you to my loyal, amazing reviewers - sorry if this is going pear-shaped or off topic for anyone. Feedback is craved and appreciated greatly!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Misery is the river of the world**

Escaping the castle of the Red Queen was disconcertingly easy once they made it past the guards of the main hall, there were very few sentinels stationed in the hanging head gardens. Emma assumed that it had to do with the heads acting as a deterrent in themselves, she certainly wasn't keen on lingering in amongst the wailing, severed heads of a hundred or more people. She wondered how many of these were the original Red Queen's work, or if they were all Miranda's, she couldn't think of anything that someone could do to deserve this horrific existence. Emma wouldn't even wish this fate on her worst enemy, she felt nauseous and silently horrified as they crept as quickly as they could through the trees.

The Hatter was now leading the way, and he seemingly had no qualms with moving so close to the monstrosities, though he did cluck his tongue in annoyance when one of the fresher seeming heads dripped blood over his waistcoat as he brushed past it. Emma gave him a reproving look as he pushed the offending appendage aside rather forcefully, causing the man to cry out in a mournful fashion. Emma felt the strange need to apologise for the Hatter's callous behaviour, but the look that the man's sunken face sent her way made the words catch in her throat and she instead moved forward hurriedly. She shoved past him, both in an attempt to leave the hanging heads more quickly and also in a form of silent reprimand for his behaviour.

"Blood isn't easy to clean out of leather you know." The Hatter muttered irritably, hastening his own step to walk along side her, she pointedly ignored him, keeping her glare directly ahead. She didn't want to risk incurring the Hatter's wrath by openly challenging him, but that didn't mean that she would condone his callous actions.

"But I'm sure you probably know that better than most." The Hatter commented, his tone casual, but Emma could tell that he was deliberately trying to get under her skin – probably so that he had an excuse to hurt her again. She continued to ignore him.

"You act all superior and Saviour like, but the way you fought back there tells me that you're used to inflicting a bit of violence yourself." His words caused her jaw to clench as she thought of all the scrapes she had gotten into as a child and then even more frequently as a teenager - she had always seemed to rub people up the wrong way in the foster homes and had been forced to defend herself on the few occasions that she had run away to live on the streets. Her work as a bail-bonds person had honed her fighting, tracking and persuasion skills further – often having to force or manipulate the perps into submission.

The Hatter was right to say she was no stranger to violence, but she could tell that he was trying to aliken her to him, whether in some pathetic attempt to justify himself, or just to irritate her, she couldn't tell. But Emma was determined to ignore him and quickened her steps further so that she was now jogging through the main gates and into the beginning on the hedge maze.

"Hey, can you slow down a bit please!" Emma grimaced as she heard August's out of breath voice coming from a way behind them, she slowed to a stop and the Hatter did the same with an annoyed expression, and they both waited for August to catch up. He slid to a halt in front of them, they were all now standing at the edge of the hedge maze at a fork that led either straight on or left. The writer was sweating, red faced and rubbing hard at the join between his leg and hip as if in great pain, he noticed Emma's gaze and gave her a tight smile "It's not easy running with a wooden leg you know."

Emma raised her eyebrows at him questioningly and he shrugged offhandedly. "It's a long story, but let's just say that the sooner you end the curse - the better, unless you want to end up dragging a wooden statue behind you."

"We could always just drop you into one of the man-eating hedges and save ourselves the trouble." The Hatter commented in a cheery tone, but there was that darker look present in his already shadowy cobalt eyes that told Emma he wasn't joking.

Quick to diffuse the situation before it got too heated – or violent - she indicated the fork ahead of them. "Which way should we go?"

"This way." Said the Hatter confidently, pointing to the left fork, just at the same time that August pointed forward. They both turned to glare at each other and Emma sighed, her already thin patience wearing to the seams.

"Didn't either of you pay attention on the way in here?" Emma asked incredulously, having been too preoccupied with the whole being kidnapped and injured thing at the time.

"I was just following the Knave of ass-kissing." August stated in a defensive tone, Emma sighed again and they both turned to the Hatter expectantly.

"Don't look at me, I wasn't the one who got us in here – you can blame your fluffy idiot of a boyfriend for that." The Hatter gave Emma a scathing and mocking look, clearly not happy with the whole rescue plan in the first place, let alone how it had now ended out.

"Well can't you just ask Jefferson if he knows the way?" Emma asked with forced patience, choosing to ignore the 'fluffy boyfriend' comment for now. The Hatter gave her an irritated look before his gaze glazed over slightly and he was silent for a few moments, standing unmoving as he presumably relayed her request to Jefferson.

When his eyes finally cleared again he looked even more infuriated, he fixed his stare on Emma and when he spoke his drawl was tight with clear annoyance. "He says he remembers the way, but won't tell until he's allowed back in the driver's seat."

Emma swallowed, she knew that the Hatter wasn't likely to give up control again; he would probably get them hopelessly lost before he let Jefferson have his body back. "Can't you just-"

"Uh, I hate to interrupt whatever the hell this is, but we have company." August cut over Emma and the three of them whipped around to see a group of six armed warriors marching towards them. Emma could have mistaken them as normal guards at a glance, only these men all wore shining crimson chest plates, the centre of each was emblazoned with a black heart and _these_ held swords and shields instead of the pole arms that the guards carried. The warrior's faces were hidden by black visors on helmets that were scarred and had clearly seen a lot of battle.

"Crimson Guard! Move!" The Hatter cursed with an expression on his face that would have been comical in any other situation, but the genuine need to flee in his face made Emma swallow her mirth. He grabbed Emma by her uninjured arm and dragged her down the left hand fork of the hedges, sprinting as fast as his bad leg and the weight of Emma would allow him. Emma allowed herself to be dragged along and August hastened after them as fast as he could with his own injury hampering him.

"What's so special about them?" Emma panted, pulling her arm from the Hatter's grip, and moving faster to keep pace beside him. She was confused why he was running when there were only six of them, as opposed to the dozen or so they had fought earlier. Emma supposed it had to do with the plate armour, guessing that it held some significance to him that inspired the madman to run away from a danger instead of into one.

"On top of being highly trained in various forms of combat, they have the same magic that keeps heads alive after being disconnected from their bodies woven into their armour." The Hatter explained as they tore through turn after turn in the endless seeming maze, deathly aware of the pursuing heavy footsteps behind them. "You could hack at them until they look like the Monty Python black knight and it wouldn't make a bit of difference - they can't be killed."

Emma blanched at the thought of invincible, faceless knights that were currently chasing them and forced her body to its very limits as exhaustion, pain and hunger drained her remaining strength. She couldn't go on like this much longer, but there was little choice, she couldn't rely on the Hatter or August to support her, as they each had injuries of their own to contend with. None of them were in any fit state to be running or fighting, but unless they wanted to be re-captured and taken back to the Red Queen, they had to keep on going. Everything around them was apparently dangerous, so it wasn't like they could find anywhere to hide in the hedge maze – they needed a miracle.

"Magic!" The thought suddenly struck Emma and she skidded to a sudden halt, turning to face the oncoming knights with upraised hands that shook, but she kept her nerve despite her fear and exhaustion.

"What are you doing?" The Hatter hissed at her, grabbing her arm and attempting to pull her along again, but she wrenched her arm from his grip and ushered both him and August to stand behind her.

The knights reached the next turn and now were in clear sight; Emma took a deep breath and threw out her upraised palms towards them, sending the first two men flying back the nearest hedge in a flash of bright white light. The move worked just as Emma had hoped as the hedge appeared to come to life and wrapped vines around the limbs of each man, dragging them deep into the confines of the greenery. The remaining knights halted in their pursuit and raised their shields – as if they thought that the metal would somehow protect them from Emma's adrenaline fuelled magic.

"Get back unless you want to be plant food!" Emma warned, keeping her hands raised threateningly, though they were now shaking more violently than ever, her vision flickering once more. The knights looked from her, to the hedges and then to each other, before they turned slowly and retreated back the way they had come. Emma waited for a minute or so before finally lowering her hands, staggering to the side so heavily that it was only the Hatter's sudden presence at her side that prevented her from joining the unfortunate knights in the man-eating hedge.

"Nice job Saviour." The Hatter murmured in her ear as he slowly lowered her to rest on his knees as he knelt down on the ground, she was vaguely aware of August hovering worriedly over the two of them, but her eyesight was growing increasingly fuzzy and she couldn't seem to focus on anything.

"S'no problem." Emma muttered back, her voice just as fuzzy as her mind, she felt her eyes sliding shut even as the Hatter attempted to shake her back into awareness, but she was just too tired. She knew that she shouldn't sleep because the Hatter wasn't the sort of person that was safe to be vulnerable around, and because they were still in danger, in the middle of a man-eating hedge maze. But lying down, even on the cold, hard ground, was a relief – the Hatter's legs made a surprisingly good pillow... if only the the annoying voices would just leave her alone...

"Emma! Emma, Emma..." The voices faded further and further away as she drifted off into unconsciousness. The stress, exhaustion, overuse of her newly discovered magic and pain of the past few days catching up to her all in one moment. She just needed to rest for a few moments...

 **Sorry for the slow updates, and as per usual thanks for the follows, favourites and reviews! Feedback is craved, especially from my loyal** **reviewers - if there is something you're not happy with, I'm open to re-writing chapters as its all part of the writing progress. Just give me a PM or review and I'll sort it.**


	23. Chapter 23

**For the damaged**

August was having difficulty understanding the events of the past day or so. Even as a man – and previous living puppet boy - who was well aware of magic and other worlds, he was still struggling with the utter madness of Wonderland; and everyone in it. Having read the story of the Mad Hatter along with all of the others in Henry's book, he had thought that he would be entering Wonderland moderately prepared for what would await him. How wrong he had been.

It seemed that the Evil Queen's lineage was more complicated than he had originally anticipated – who would have thought that Regina would actually have a sister? From what he had read of Cora, he couldn't imagine any man really mad enough to get involved with her outside of an arranged marriage. The stunning beauty may run strong in the bloodline, but so did malice, sadism and apparently insane power complexes. Standing from the viewpoint of a writer, August thought it was a little clichéd, but he supposed that real life was like that sometimes.

August considered this as he and the Mad Hatter carried Emma awkwardly between them, with him holding her legs while the other supported her upper body. Mad was definitely an apt description for the Hatter that August had experienced this far – the man was violent, sporadic in his behaviour and since Emma had lost consciousness, he had begun muttering incessantly to himself. His tone was harsh and low, so August only caught snatches of his words, but it all sounded angry and argumentative. He occasionally caught snatches of what he was saying, with words like "ridiculous", "of course not", "your fault" and "how was I supposed to handle it".

It was all rather disjointed and August was confused as to what he was actually going on about – or who – the character he had read of had been a tale of redemption through his daughter and betrayal at the hands of the Evil Queen. But August had never actually thought of the Hatter as mad, at least until he met him, he had merely been a sympathetic character and a narrative tool for Regina to cast the curse. But looking at the Hatter now, it was clear that the man had some issues to work through.

It took them many hours of turns, arguing, backtracking, more turns, more arguing and then more backtracking, but eventually the two men and the unconscious form of Emma made their way to the exit of the hedge maze. It seemed that Emma's display of magic had succeeded in scaring away the so-called 'Crimson Guard' and the rest of the Red queen's men, as they encountered no more challenges, other than the maze itself. The crimson sky had turned a rusted orange colour by the setting sun as they paused by the entrance to the Fungal Forest, laying Emma gently down on the grass at their feet, taking a much needed moment or two to regain their breath and stretch sore muscles. Both the Hatter and August were struggling to keep a lid on their own pain, as neither of their legs was in any state to be running, fighting or carrying a 115 pound woman with them.

"Where are we actually going now?" August asked once he had regained his breath enough to speak.

The Hatter seemed to ignore him as he knelt down next to Emma, a puzzled look on his face, creasing his dark brows as he reached out to gently stroke a hand across her sleeping face. She didn't respond to his touch until his fingers softly stroked across her throat, and then she only responded with a slight crease of her brow, as if in discomfort. "Don't do that."

As August looked closer, past the blood encrusted, messy stitches, he saw light bruising around her neck; hand shaped bruising. It was in the colourful day old stage of blue discolouration, but the hand prints made suspicion rise in August as he watched the look on the Hatter's face turn to a strange combination of fascination and a slightest trace of guilt.

"I said leave her alone, you nutcase." August said, grabbing the man's shoulder and pulling him away from Emma. He was disturbed by the Hatter's behaviour; the look on his face was all wrong compared to the seemingly caring, intimate that he and Emma had shared back in the cell while August had been an unwilling bystander. This seemed more twisted and malicious. It was wrong.

"Yes, yes! I heard you _Puppet_ , I'm mad - not deaf!" The Hatter was agitated now, but he stood up straight, his hand leaving Emma and he turned a black gaze on August that made him shrink back slightly. It was his job to bring Emma back to Storybrooke safely, but along with all of the other issues to deal with, he now had the feeling that the Hatter would be one of the most difficult to deal with. He had failed Emma once because of his own cowardice, and had later taken away her first chance at love – even if it had been for the greater good – he certainly wasn't going to abandon her now.

"Wouldn't much surprise me if you were both..." August muttered irritably, and then cleared to throat to repeat his earlier question. "Where should we be going? You know this place better than I do."

"The amount of things that I know more about than you would fill more books than you've written." The Hatter snapped at him, his gaze drifting back down to Emma, August pointedly stepped in front of her, blocking the Hatter's view and levelling a glare at the slightly taller man.

"While I would _just love_ to trade witty comebacks all day, we need to get her – and ourselves – somewhere safe so we can figure out how to get back to Storybrooke." August spoke calmly; forcing himself not to rise to the Hatter's baiting comments and irritated glare.

The Hatter sighed exasperatedly and gave August his full attention "I doubt that is anyone left in this blasted wasteland that would risk angering the queen to help, when we came here we went to an acquaintance of the idiot, but I doubt he'd be willing to help now that the Queen is aware of our presence and most likely actively hunting us down as we speak."

"As far as I know, there are only three ways out of this world – a working hat; which isn't likely anytime this century." The Hatter commented, sending a strange look down at Emma's unconscious form, his lip twisting into a slight sneer. "A mirror, but that would only get us to the Enchanted Forest, which is apparently worse off than here at the moment." August opened his mouth to question what _that_ was supposed to mean, but the Hatter ploughed on, cutting across him before he could get a word out. " _Or_ the Pool of Tears."

"Why not mention that one first?" August asked in exasperation.

"It's not easy to get to, and apparently not very fun to go through once there." The Hatter replied cryptically, something flickering and oddly cold in his cobalt blue eyes, his gaze once again flickering down to Emma in such a way that August felt a shiver run through him.

"Dare I even ask?"

"You could, but there wouldn't be much use in it." The Hatter replied offhandedly, flashing him a sarcastic, cold grin, and pushing roughly past him to scoop up Emma from the ground. Though it was clear that he was straining to hold her by himself, he strode off down the south-west facing fork of the path that started at the edge of the hedge maze.

August sighed and limped hurriedly to follow him, they may both have bad legs, but the Hatter's injury seemed to be getting better with the passage of time, whereas August's flesh was only petrifying into wood faster with each passing hour. If they didn't get Emma back to Storybrooke within the next few days, August knew that he would likely be completely wooden, and with no magic in the land, he wouldn't be able to move – he'd simply be a living, immobile statue. A lumber corpse trapped inside his own mind – unless Emma broke the curse.

"How far is this Pool of Tears?" August asked, limping along beside the Hatter's long strides as quickly as he was able.

"How long will you keep asking inane questions?" The Hatter replied, not looking at him, merely keeping his eyes straight ahead in the direction they were walking, which appeared to be into a stretch of mountains made out of blue hued rock, the ground was beginning to slope upwards now. August was struggling to keep up with the Hatter's pace more than ever as his wooden leg hampered his ability to move uphill.

"I wouldn't call knowing how long I'm going to have to put up with you an inane question." August commented, panting slightly "I'd call it self-preservation."

The Hatter turned his head slightly, a snide smirk playing on his lips that unnerved August as it reminded him somewhat of the painted leer of Rumpelstiltskin when the book depicted him stepping upon a man-turned-snail until it _cracked._ "You're smarter than you look, Puppet."

He then turned his gaze forward once more, the smirk slid slowly from his face and back into what August thought of as his resting bitch face. "But if I were you I would just follow me, keep your mouth shut, don't touch anything you shouldn't and don't wander off. Oh and by the way, this is the last time I agree to babysit – you people are all insane, you think it's a good idea to follow me! No sense self perseveration at all!"

August stared open mouthed at the Hatter for several moments, somewhat unable to process what he'd just heard, once his brain had re-booted however, he snapped his mouth back shut and carried on following the leader. Even if it was a leader who had just openly mocked his sanity for following him.

Despite the Hatter's harsh words and looks, he held Emma's unconscious form with surprising care, adjusting his grip every now and then so that his limp would not jog her too much. It was similar to the care that he had shown back in the cell, but there was still a polluted darkness present in his eyes, a tightness of his jaw and a tension in his posture that told August he was still a danger to everyone around him. Including Emma... Maybe especially Emma. The conflicting ways August had seen him treat her in the brief period of time he'd known them both gave him the disconcerting idea that the man both wanted to care for Emma and also to hurt her. There was a burning, freezing, crazy look in the Hatter's eyes that told him he shouldn't trust the man alone with Emma. Or at all.

So, for this reason, he found himself keeping close step behind the Hatter as he kept striding relentlessly up the steeply sloping path that was carved into the blue hued stone of the mountain. He kept his gaze on Emma's bobbing head as Hatter carried her, checking her slack, pale face for any sign that she might wake soon, or that the Hatter might be hurting her. While he saw neither during their long trek that went on past the hours of daylight and deep into the night, even when the light died and straining his eyes to keep check on Emma hurt him, he kept it up. He failed her once, he wouldn't do it again.

The way that Emma had treated the Hatter earlier worried him as well, in the cell it had almost been in a loving manner as her hands touched his and her forest green eyes melted into him. The kiss he had seen had been passionate enough for him to feel a flare of concern, and maybe a bit of jealousy if he was being honest with himself. Emma was a strong, beautiful, witty - if stubborn – woman, and she didn't deserve to be dragged into whatever kind of insanity and depravity was eating up the man who was currently cradling her.

August had already interfered in her love life once when he drove off Baelfire so that she could go on to find Storybrooke as she was meant to, not realising at the time that she had been pregnant with Henry. Some form of fate must have intervened for Henry to end up being adopted by Regina – or more likely Rumpelstiltskin had intervened – and August felt that his attempted help had only made matters worse. As much as he wanted Emma to be happy, and for her to break to curse – which would reunite her with her family – he couldn't condone letting her be with a man who was so clearly unstable. It wasn't fair on her – she deserved better. As soon as they got back to Storybrooke, he would try to divert her attention elsewhere.

Anywhere that wasn't the dark, hungry eyes of the Mad Hatter.

 **Thank you for my loyal** **reviewer** **********and welcome to zoeheart14 ! Please keep reading, following and reviewing. **


	24. Chapter 24

**I'm still here aka - You're in love with a psycho**

Emma dreamt of fire. She dreamt of twisting flames that wrapped around her arms, her legs and her every thought. Her body felt numb to the waking world but at the same time, she felt the fictitious fire scorching through every fibre in her body as she floated in it, helpless. But she wasn't alone, she could hear voices, familiar voices she thought, but they were so distorted and far away that she couldn't be sure of what they were actually saying. Indistinct as they were, Emma still found the voices a comfort; they were a nice break from the swirling, roiling fire that she had been floating through. She wasn't sure how long she had been asleep – if that's what this was - but the voices allowed her enough reprieve so that she didn't really care.

One of the voices was definitely more comforting than the other, and she associated it with a touch that was equally soothing...though she couldn't recall why or who. The voice sounded sharper than it should do from her foggy memory, different, darker – it was strange, but that didn't really seem to matter to Emma as she floated in the fiery abyss. The darkness seemed to be receding the more she focussed upon the voice, she felt aches and pains along with surface of her skin that had previously been numbed to her, and while the pain wasn't welcome, the surge of memory that accompanied it certainly was. As strangely peaceful as the fiery darkness had been, she welcomed the real world with open arms as it was so painfully _clear._

The voices were starting to make sense now, the blank noise from before becoming clear words that Emma caught snatches of as her body began to register that it was being carried, jostled along as the one holding her walked. "- can't really see that it's any of your business puppet, so butt out, before I do something that she'll no doubt make me regret."

"Can you cut that out? I _do_ have a name you know – its August." She heard a disgruntled reply to the first voice.

"I don't see how puppet is any worse than either of your other names." The first voice commented in such a tone that Emma could practically see the cocky smirk plastered on pouty pink lips. That was it! Jefferson! No, the Hatter. She was being carried by the Mad Hatter. And he was arguing with August... again.

"At least I actually _have_ a name! You're just 'the Hatter'!" Emma had to fight hard repress a smirk and a snort of laughter at August's indignant reply. She thought she must have managed as neither stopped walking nor talking.

"Well technically I could also call myself Jefferson, as much as I detest the fool, we do both share the body." The Hatter's tone was tight with sarcasm and condescension and Emma felt his grip tighten on her legs slightly.

"I've been meaning to ask about that, who the hell is Jefferson?" Emma cringed inwardly as she heard the confrontation in August's question. This wasn't likely to end well. She wondered whether she should step in, although just the idea of opening her eyes, let alone her mouth, made her feel exhausted.

"He's a sentimental fool who I have the misfortune of having to share a headspace with." The Hatter's reply was surprisingly mild considering his past behaviour, but his grip further tightened on Emma's legs so that she knew there would be bruises later. She held in a grunt of pain and merely winced instead, she was curious to see how this would play out, and also not keen of the idea of the Hatter knowing she was awake while this close to him. It seemed that while she was apparently asleep, the Hatter wasn't getting violent or too angry; she wanted to keep it that way.

"What do you mean?" August asked, obviously confused.

"I don't see the need for you to understand any of this – the part that matters to you is that _I_ am someone who does not take kindly to sentimental fools or bumbling puppets, and that Jefferson is precisely the sort of fool who will likely get us all killed." The Hatter's voice was cold and deadly soft as he continued. "So I would advise you not to join in any ill-fated ideas that Emma may try to influence you into, to bring out my weaker half. It would not end well for any of us."

There was no verbal reply from August, but whatever expression was on his face seemed to satisfy the Hatter that the writer would do as he said because the conversation died out into a tense silence, except for the crunching of their footsteps on what sounded like gravel. From the animosity she could feel practically steaming off of both men, Emma guessed she should feel glad that they had managed to drop their cumbersome weapons during the chase earlier, otherwise they would likely have impaled each other by now.

Emma had of course been thinking of ways to bring Jefferson back out since she awoke, but the Hatter's warning to August froze her thoughts in their tracks. Unless the Hatter grew too volatile or aggressive towards them, she hesitantly admitted to herself that he was most likely the best candidate to get them out of Wonderland alive. He was ruthless, cunning, manipulative and a skilled fighter – all of those things would be useful should the Queen, or any other potential threats, present themselves. But then, those same skills could be used _against_ August and herself. It was a difficult call. She missed Jefferson and wished that she was wrapped in his embrace, to sooth her hurting body and her roiling thoughts. She wanted him back, but her practical nature told her that, for now, the Hatter was the man she needed, even if he was dangerous and volatile, he was the best option.

The Hatter's steps slowed after a few minutes more walking, until he stopped completely on what seemed to be level ground, Emma felt the whole world shift as she was placed with surprising care onto the ground. She felt gravel and sheer rock below her, and the light she could see through her eyelids had dimmed, she guessed that they were now in some cave or rocky outcrop. She wondered how long the two men had been walking, as they had their own injuries to contend with, it couldn't have been easy to carry her deadweight any distance.

Gratitude flowed through her at the thought of what both men had risked for her; she was so unused to people putting her first. It caused an unfamiliar warmth to build in her chest at the thought that coming to Storybrooke, and then falling in Wonderland, may have been a good thing after all. She now had friends, a son and maybe... maybe something much more with Jefferson.

"I'm going for firewood." August said and she heard his voice mover further away.

"Could always use one of your legs." Whatever non-verbal response August came up with caused a dry chuckle escape the Hatter's throat.

"You can stop pretending to be asleep now Emma." Her eye's jolted open in surprise at the Hatter's voice close by her ear and looked up to glare at his smirking, weary face, silhouetted in the dim light of the cave. The light slipping through the cave entrance was bluish tinged by the moon, making the rock surrounding them seem an even deeper midnight colour. It also gave a strange shade to the Hatter's cobalt blue eyes, making them seem to shine eerily in the half-light of the cave.

"How long have-?" Emma croaked out half the question before her dry, sore throat prevented the words from leaving her mouth and she had to stop to cough several times to clear the itchy feeling from her throat.

"As expressive as some people are in their sleep, most don't smirk or snort with laughter when clearly listening to an idiot blather." The Hatter's tone was dry, and he offered her a surprisingly wry smile. Emma had to fight a giggle as she saw August halt in the mouth of the cave behind him and make mocking faces and hand gestures to the madman's back.

"Um...thanks by the way." Emma mumbled, averting her eyes from both men as she spoke. "For getting me out of there... and for...you know... everything." She finished lamely, looking up at August who smiled silently and moved out of the cave entrance and into the dark. She then risked a glance at the Hatter, whose dark eyes were unreadable.

"I'll relay your thanks properly onto the one they were meant for." His voice was quiet and sounded almost... sad. It shocked her to hear such genuine emotion from a madman who openly scorned the sentimental, while what she saw in his eyes wasn't quite natural, it was closer to being human than ever before. Emma fixed her gaze onto his own, making sure that he returned it properly before replying in an equally quiet tone.

"I was thanking you too."

There was a flicker of shock on the Hatter's face, followed by something like gratitude and then it was all covered over by a carefully constructed expression of annoyance. "He's the one who wants you safe – I'm just along for the ride, my dear."

"Why bother helping me now though?" Emma probed, challenging him in a way she never would have risked until she saw that small flicker of humanity in him. "I'm not really a way to get to the Red Queen as I can't make a hat work anymore than you could. You can't blame it on Jefferson either this time – you _chose_ to help me." Emma pushed herself up into an awkward sitting position against the cave wall as she spoke, her strength slowly returning the longer she was awake. "Why?"

"You're highly overestimating yourself my dear; there is _nothing_ special about you enough to warrant my attention." The Hatter was clearly agitated, his dark cobalt eyes flashing with anger and he stood, pacing away from her before turning to face her once more, pointing a finger in accusation. "You aren't worth Jefferson's affection and _I_ have none to give in the first place, so get that delusion out of your mind!"

Emma's used the stone wall behind her to push herself up into a shaky standing position, knowing she was clearly onto to something, and ignoring all of her sensible instincts that were screaming at her to leave it alone. "If I'm so worthless, then why bother saving me over and over? Why bother being practically gentle?! I care for Jefferson and that makes no logical sense! Love doesn't make sense!"

The Hatter was in front of her in a second, his hand coming to grasp her by the neck in a clearly threatening gesture, his grip just tight enough to make her breath catch in her throat. She met his fiery gaze with equal burning intensity as he leant close to her face and hissed in a venomous voice "Is _this_ gentle?! Is your ' _love'_ worth your life?"

"If I didn't believe that Jefferson was worth my love, I would have never let him near me." Emma hissed back, feeling the Hatter's grip slowly constricting as she spoke, but she persevered and kept forcing the words out, even as she felt her breath leaving her. "I've been broken enough times to know when it's worth the pain of being shattered apart. I've been abandoned enough times to know that if you don't try to believe in something, it's doomed from the start. I've been alone long enough to know that being alive without love isn't living. And I know that in order to love someone, you must first accept _all_ of them – even the parts that can hurt you."

The Hatter's stare was utter intense, burning passion as his grip loosened slightly, and then he used it to wrench her face upwards in a neck-cricking move. " _There's_ that fire."

The next moment, the Hatter's lips met hers with a melting fury, his teeth and tongue joining to claim Emma in a savage frenzy that consumed her whole being. She found herself returning the kiss desperately, despite the fact that this _wasn't_ Jefferson. But it was. There was something inside of her that told her this was _both_ parts of the man coming together in one unanimous decision – a combined passion that consumed all reason and judgement.

His hand moved from her throat to her shoulder – the uninjured one and slammed her firmly against the wall so that their leather-clad chests were pressed together. Emma's own hand found itself wrapped around his broad shoulder and the other twined through his soft, shiny brown hair, the kiss deepening as cognitive thought abandoned her completely.

He ground his hips to hers, hitching her left leg up around his hip, she could feel the tell-tale bulge of excitement under the leather of his pants. She briefly wondered where he'd stashed his clothes while playing a guard, but the thought quickly left her as sparks danced along her skin as the Hatter's fingers ventured under the hem of her tunic, ghosting along her stomach up to tease the swell of her breast.

Her own fingers moved to brush the bulge forming in the confines of his leather pants and he let out a choked chuckle as he paused in his violent kissing to whisper in her ear. "You shouldn't let your hands wander so little girl; you don't know where they might go."

"As long as I keep them attached, I don't much care where." Emma muttered against his lips, a heady smirk playing at the corners of her damp, cherry lips.

"The things you say to me, you'd think I was a monster." The Hatter's tone was deliberately shocked, but his eyes were dark and mischievous in such a way that she felt her insides melt and curl up in fear at the same time.

"Monster would be a good word for it." Both of them started at August's sharp voice, the Hatter turned just in time to receive a sound punch to the jaw that made him stagger back a step before rounding on the writer with a deadly look in his eyes. Emma reached forward to pull him back, but the Hatter shrugged her off and the two men leapt at each other with bloodlust in their eyes.

 **Thank you as always guys! I hope the irregular updates are okay, I'm just struggling with deadlines, so the next update might come later than usual, so sorry in advance.**


	25. Chapter 25

**COMING UNDONE**

Emma watched on in horror as the two men leapt at each other, she was panting and still flustered from the intimate exchange she and the Hatter had just exchanged, but now she felt panic flooding her veins like ice water. Witnessing a death-brawl was a surprisingly good turn off it seemed. Her thoughts were muddled from the all-encompassing passion of mere moments ago, how had everything gone so wrong, so quickly? Emma supposed that was what happened when you got involved with a psychotic half of a man who had severe rage issues.

She didn't want to see either of them hurt – she cared greatly for Jefferson and didn't want him to be hurt over the Hatter's issues, and August may be more or less a stranger, but he had risked a lot in travelling Wonderland to help her. She could understand why he had struck the first blow – he had seen the Hatter pushing her up against the wall in such a rough and controlling fashion that it could have looked like assault to an onlooker. But she knew it was likely also a pent up reaction to all of the jibes and insults that had flown between them from the moment they had met. There was a small part of her that whispered those weren't the only reasons, reminding her of the flirtatious behaviour he had sent her way back in Storybrooke and of the looks she often caught him giving her. She pushed the part away forcefully – it couldn't be that, it _shouldn't_ be, she barely knew him, and she cared for Jefferson too much to think of another man showing her affection. If anything, it was most likely a simple crush – a petty attraction born of her of her hostile nature, in the past she had had to _correct_ several men she had encountered as they mistook her rejection for a challenge. She couldn't deal with two potential infatuated men at the moment – especially when they were currently literally at each-other's throats.

The Hatter had the distinct advantage in the combat area as he was ruthless and cunning with his blows; he went straight for the weak spot between August's leg and where Emma guessed the flesh became wood. The area was obviously tender as August's leg shuttered beneath him, but he used his obviously potent anger to his advantage and grabbed the Hatter's own weak leg as he fell forward, pulling the other man down with him. The Hatter seemed surprised by the success of August's move and took a moment to re-calculate his strategy as he rolled to the side and struck out, catching August square in the nose. There was a cry of pain, a sickening _crack_ and a splatter of blood as August's nose broke with the force of the blow, he reared back from the Hatter, clutching at his nose to stem the flow of blood.

The writer was quick to retaliate however, as he levered himself up and sent a kick with his good leg straight in-between the Hatter's legs. Even Emma winced at that move; that had got to hurt – especially considering the recent... activity the area had seen. The Hatter let out an agonised and furious yell and grabbed August by the hair, slamming his head back into the stone floor of the cave hard enough to daze him. The Hatter quickly straddled the incapacitated man, both of his hands finding August's throat and squeezing tightly. The writer's own hands came up to attempt to wrench the Hatter's free as his face turned through a vibrant shade of red to purple, his struggles seemed ineffectual however as the Hatter's eyes burned with fury.

Emma couldn't watch the Hatter kill August, and ran forward, grabbing him by the shoulder in an attempt to wrestle him away from the dying man beneath him. The Hatter didn't budge or even seem to acknowledge Emma's presence as he tightened his grip further; August's face was now blue, red veins pulsing in his eyes as his hands fell limply to the ground beside him. Panic made Emma careless, but also lent her strength, as she grabbed the Hatter by the hair and tugged him back hard enough that his iron grip on August's throat loosened momentarily. The Hatter swung a hand backwards at her in a seemingly instinctive act of defence, but Emma ducked to the side, pulling the Hatter backwards with her grip still in his hair.

Emma felt a flash of relief as the Hatter's hands finally left August's throat, but then the panic re-surfaced as they closed around the wrist of the hand that she had fisted in his hair. She let out a cry of surprise and pain as he flipped her to the side in one powerful motion, her back, head and shoulders slamming into the stone floor with enough force to wind her. She glanced to the side to see August laying a few feet away, his face was pale, still and he was unmoving, his eyes closed, but Emma could just about make out the rise and fall of his chest. August looked to be alive, but who knew what internal damage the Hatter could have done – he needed help.

She momentarily contemplated using magic to blast the Hatter back, but she wasn't sure how to control the force she could use, she didn't want to kill him. She also felt too physically drained to attempt using her new-found power again; she wasn't sure who she might hurt if she tried to use magic without the proper will and strength to control it.

The Hatter pounced on her, quickly straddling her hips and pressing a hand to her throat, but not in the same way he had August – this seemed to be more of a show of strength rather than an actual intent to kill. His touch was gentle as he panted slightly, grinning down at her, flecks of blood from August's broken nose were flecked across his face and staining his hands – he looked utterly insane.

"Now, where were we my dear?" The Hatter's voice was deadly soft, the playful glint in his eye felt different now that she was in such a vulnerable position, with her injured friend laying unconscious and still mere feet away.

"Jefferson-" Emma's voice was quickly cut off as the Hatter clapped a rough hand over her mouth, baring his teeth slightly at her and leaning close.

"Now what did I say earlier about any ill-advised attempts to bring the fool back?" The Hatter was angry now, the playful edge gone; replaced by white hot fury. "I thought we were having _such_ a good time without him. Why spoil it now, hmm?"

Emma tried to jerk her head free from his grip and wriggled underneath him, the softer version of the Hatter was long gone it seemed, this was the man that she feared. The Hatter let out a slightly amused huff and released her mouth.

"You got your payback on August, how about calming down and letting us go?" Emma spoke quietly, her forest-green eyes shining in the dim-cave light, keeping her gaze fixed solely on the Hatter's glistening, heated cobalt eyes.

"Silly, pretty girl, what makes you think I won't just kill him – he's annoying, and he's in my way." The Hatter's hand came to stroke at her cheek and he gave her a playful smirk. Emma swallowed and willed the tears pressing at the back of her eyes not to fall.

"In the way of _what_?" She asked, her voice tense, the Hatter giggled slightly and his lips were suddenly brushing her ear as he whispered, as if telling her a great secret.

"I'm _doing_ what both of them are too _weak_ to do. I'm _taking_ what they are too _afraid_ to take." The Hatter's eyes were so dark that they were almost an empty void of blackness. "A madman is the only truly free man - all his darkness, all his excesses, they can run amok. If he wants a girl, he can take as many as he wants - the world is his; the only limit is his imagination."

" _I_ am freedom. I am the version of Jefferson that was bred in captivity. The part that was truly free – even when trapped – because _I_ am honest. I am what most men – and puppets – repress because they are too _weak_ to take a hold of it."

Emma felt so numb with fear that she couldn't even feel the tears that had finally made their way past her defences; her voice was choked and cracked as she whispered. "Jefferson would never hurt me like this. He's stronger than you think."

The Hatter laughed, his eyes flashing wildly. "If he's so strong, then why did he let me in the first place? I'm only able to do this now because he _knew_ that he was too weak to help you on his own. He hasn't got back control because he _can't_." The Hatter dipped his face so that his lips hovered just above hers and he removed the hand that held her throat. "Just like he can't stop me from doing _this."_

The Hatter's free hand moved down to grip her injured shoulder, digging his long fingers underneath the bandages and pressing nails hard into the stitches binding the wound closed – tearing them open with savage force. At the very moment that Emma screamed in agony at the fire consuming her shoulder, the Hatter pressed his lips forcefully to hers – swallowing her screams with apparent relish.

After a few moments, Emma managed to wrench her face away from him and gasped out "Jefferson, please..." Emma flinched back as a look of fury flashed across the Hatter's face, but was shocked and relieved as she realised that the anger was not directed at her. The blue in his eyes was shifting colour as she watched on in awe, lightening from the dark cobalt to the blissfully familiar china blue. There was a minute or so of flickering between shades, before the colour settled completely and an expression of utter horror consumed his features.

Jefferson let out a horrified cry and threw himself bodily back away from Emma and into the far cave wall, staring at her in utter appalled misery. Tears streamed freely down both of their pale faces, Emma just lay where she was, frozen in pain and shock, not even registering the blood trickling from the open wound on her chest.

"Sweet Jesus, what have I done? What have I done? Oh god..."


	26. Chapter 26

**While God's away on business...**

Henry took the news that his birth mother was missing surprisingly well. When David took on one of his first cases the new Sherriff of Storybrooke – finding the previous sheriff – he was hesitant as to how to approach Henry about the disappearance of Emma. The boy was notoriously curious about everything and was currently in therapy for delusions about everyone in town being fairy-tale characters, so David was understandably nervous to tell him the bad news. However, he thought it would be better for Henry to hear it from him than from Regina – even if she was his adoptive mother, the woman did not seem to have much tact when it came to demonstrating her distaste for Emma. She would most likely try to convince Henry that it was for the best and that Emma had just left town, but David was far more inclined to believe Mary-Margaret on the matter.

After two days of long discussions with both Mary-Margaret and Kathryn, David was in a better position than he had been since he had woken up in the hospital – Kathryn was content to divorce and let David pursue his true heart's desire. Kathryn even hinted that she had been considering a split for a time before David went into the coma, while she still didn't appreciate the deception – and understandably so – she agreed that separation was the best thing for them. He had subsequently moved into Mary-Margaret's apartment, leaving Kathryn the house as a token of good will, and they had spent the time since her release discussing their relationships and growing accustomed to living together.

However, he could see that the longer Emma was missing, the more agitated Mary-Margaret had become, and she took to pacing around the apartment and making odd trips to the police station to simply stare at Emma's yellow bug that was still parked outside. He could understand her concern, he doubted that Emma would have simply left town on foot and without her belongings, and once three days had passed, David couldn't restrain his own concern. He didn't really know Emma Swan very well, but she clearly meant a lot to Mary-Margaret as they had lived together and seemed to have become friends in the short time Emma had been in Storybrooke.

That brought him up to now, he had stopped around at the mayor's house in order to speak with Henry about Emma's disappearance – if Emma would have said goodbye to anyone before she left, it would have been Henry. But the ten year old denied having seen Emma in days, and when David explained that she had last been seen by Mary-Margaret at a house belonging to a madman who kidnapped them, he seemed unconcerned.

"Henry... perhaps I should also mention that she... fell of a window before she just...vanished." David was hesitant with his words, fixing his bright blue eyes on Henry's brown ones to gauge his reaction as the boy sat cross-legged on his bed, David standing a foot or so away.

"Was there a hat where she fell?" Henry asked and David blinked in surprise at the boy's insight.

"Uh yes, how did you-?" Henry simply gave him a grin and jumped up from the bed.

"And she was gone afterwards?"

"According to Mary-Margaret yes, but-"

Henry ignored him, moving to grab his coat and rucksack, before heading towards the door. David regarded him in shock and concern – was this some weird kind of coping mechanism? He seemed far too calm about this, shouldn't he be crying? Or at the very least upset? He seemed practically excited.

"Henry! Where are you going?" David called after him as the boy headed for the stairs, moving to follow him as he descended them two at a time.

"To see Mr Gold of course." Henry replied, sounding surprisingly chipper, and not looking back as he left through the front door. David blanched at that – what on earth could Henry want to talk to Mr Gold about? The door slammed behind him and David was left standing awkwardly in the main hall of Regina's house. He wasn't sure whether he should follow Henry or call Regina, who was currently at the town hall, he felt he should do something, but wasn't sure what.

After a minute or so of deliberation he decided to go back to the station and call Mary-Margaret for advice – she knew Henry better than he did, and would most likely be able to advise him on how to handle the situation. With that plan in mind, he left the mayor's house, and hoped he hadn't made matters worse by talking to Henry without his mother present.

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Henry was overjoyed as he walked the moderately short distance to Mr Gold's pawnbrokers, a smile pulling at his lips and a slight bounce in his step as he clutched his book to his chest. Emma had gone through the Mad Hatter's hat! She was most likely in another world – a fantastical one that was sure to convince her of the existence of magic and the curse! He envied her getting the opportunity to travel through realms, he wished more than anything to live in the Enchanted Forest with his real family. If this wouldn't make her believe, than nothing would!

He wondered which world she was in now. Was it the Enchanted Forest? The Land without colour? Wonderland? Neverland? Oz? Or somewhere else? Having read about all of them in his book, he couldn't contain the excitement he felt that once Emma broke the curse, he might be able to visit those fantastical places too! The reason he was now visiting Mr Gold was because he had finally figured out who the pawnbroker really was. He was surprised he hasn't figured it out sooner, it had been the deal he had made to get Ashley's AKA Cinderella's baby that had been the final piece he had needed to get it. The position of power, the fear he inspired in the town's people, the limp, the face and the penchant for deal-making – he had to be none other than Rumpelstiltskin.

That was why he was now entering the imp's shop, the bell tinkling as he pushed open the door and closed it respectfully behind him – he didn't want to anger the most powerful magic-user in all of the realms by breaking his little bell after all. "Mr Gold?" Henry called, not seeing the man anywhere in the front of the shop, guessing he must be in the back; he ventured a few steps forward. He glanced around as he always did, at all of the fairy-tale 'antiques' that were scattered around the shop in glass cases and boxes. After a shuffle of footsteps and the tap of a cane, Mr Gold appeared through the curtain at the back of the shop, dressed impeccably as ever and smiling amiably when he saw who was visiting him.

"Hello there Henry, what can I do for you today?" Gold said, moving over to stand behind the main display desk and Henry stepped forward, feeling slightly nervous.

"I was just wondering if you had any spinning wheels for sale?" Henry asked in a forcibly casual tone, a smile threatening to push its way onto his face as Rumpelstiltskin blinked, but then recovered so quickly that Henry was sure his hunch was correct.

"Spinning wheels? Now why on earth would you want something like that?" Mr Gold asked, his accented tone unchanged, but there was a hard, flat look in his eyes now – he knew that Henry knew.

"How about a hat then?" Henry asked, keeping his tone as innocent as he could and was delighted when he saw another flicker on the imp's face.

"I have some helmets or a WW2 army cap if you are interested in playing-" But Henry quickly interrupted him by opening his story book and placing it on top of Mr Gold's ledger in front of the man, tapping a finger onto the picture of the Mad Hatter.

"I was looking for a hat like that actually." Henry said, eying Mr Gold's face as he studied the image with an unreadable expression. "I thought you might have recently found one."

Gold's brown eyes came up to stare at him for several moments with that same unreadable expression, like he was trying to decide something, before he let out a slight chuckle and shook his head softly. "I suppose there's no point hiding it from you any longer, what with your mother being so close to breaking the curse and all."

Henry felt a surge of relief and excitement at Rumpelstiltskin's words. He had been right all along! The curse was real! And all of the characters he had read about were real! He had a family, he had grandparents – and he wouldn't have to pretend anymore. He flipped a few pages in the book and jabbed a finger excitedly at an illustration of Rumpelstiltskin, the similarities between the two men becoming painfully clear as he looked up at Gold. "That's you isn't it? You're Rumpelstiltskin!"

The imp in question nodded with a wry half-smile on his lips and he did a half-hearted dramatic little hand flourish. "That's me dearie."

"I knew it! Henry cried, slamming the book closed and hugging it back to his chest.

"I can only assume you're here to ask about the whereabouts of your real mother." Rumpelstiltskin stated, the smile dimming as his tone became more serious. Henry sobered up at that and forced himself to remember why he was here in the first place – for Emma.

"Do you know where the hat sent her?" Henry asked earnestly.

" _Them."_ Rumpelstiltskin corrected him with a slightly grim expression upon his face and elaborated when Henry sent him a questioning look. "The hat sent both your mother and Jefferson; or as you know him - the Mad Hatter – to Wonderland. I know because I was able to use the remaining magic left in the hat, mixed with some of her blood, to perform a rudimentary tracing spell." He moved around the counter top stand before Henry and to place a hand on the boy's shoulder in what seemed to be an attempt at comfort. "Despite the name, Wonderland is not a safe place to be. I sent someone who is aware of the curse after them to help them return."

"August?" Henry guessed, the writer seemed to know more than he was letting on, and come to think of it, Henry hadn't seen him around town lately. Rumpelstiltskin nodded and removed his hand, clearly feeling awkward at the contact.

"If he does his job right, your mother shall return soon enough, Henry." The imp told him, but Henry saw something in his face that told him the man wasn't telling him everything. If there was one thing that Henry had learned from reading the book of fairy-tales – it was that you should never trust Rumpelstiltskin.


	27. Chapter 27

**A Broken World**

Emma lay where she was, quietly observing as Jefferson sat hunched by the furthest wall of the cave, knees pulled up to his chest, hands curling repetitively through his hair in an absently frantic manner and his haunted china blue eyes were blankly staring at the floor in front of him. Emma felt stronger than she had before, but she didn't want to break Jefferson from his apparent reverie, she knew she should do something – anything, but her mind was working so slowly, like it was wading through icy, muddy waters. She supposed she was in shock, given all that had happened as of late, it was rather inevitable, but there was still a part of her brain that rebelled at the sign of weakness – she had been through hell and back before, this time should be no different.

But it was.

She hadn't been affected this much by Neal's betrayal even when she had had to give birth to his abandoned son in jail. She shouldn't have let herself be fooled by the Hatter's false humanity and affectionate seeming words; she should have been on guard as she always had been before. What was it about Jefferson and the Hatter that made her _want_ to put her defences down and let him in? Were these feelings brought on by stress and some form of shared madness? Or was it something else entirely? Something deeper? She didn't know, but as she heard a groan come from the side of her, she realised her attentions were needed elsewhere and was grateful for the distraction from her confusing and troubling thoughts.

Emma levered herself up on to her knees and crawled over to where August still lay, though his eyes were now open and he was grimacing in pain as his hand came up to gently message his tender, vibrantly bruised throat. "August? You still with us?"

The puppet in question looked up at the sound of her voice, but he didn't reply verbally – probably a wise idea judging the current state of his throat. Instead he nodded softly, concern and pain clear in his eyes, but also many burning questions and Emma could guess what they were. "He's okay for now, he's... back to himself again. I'm okay – just a bit bruised, better than you anyway."

August shot her a sceptical look and opened his mouth as if to express his disbelief but only a croak came out before he fell into a violent coughing fit that hunched him over as he clutched his sides. Emma awkwardly helped manoeuvre him into a more comfortable position so that he was leaning up against the stone cave wall and his breathing eased somewhat until the coughing subsided.

Emma felt guilt eat at her – August was only here because of her, and now he was hurt while trying to stop her from making what was probably a huge mistake. Emma's hand absentmindedly reached out to tentatively stroke the purple bruising on August's throat in an assessing manner and both received the shock of their lives as there was a flash of white-gold light that left them both blinking and stunned.

Feeling suddenly drained, as if her blood was pumping that little bit slower through her veins and head spinning slightly, she stared back at August in shock. The bruises on his neck were gone, leaving the skin unmarked, pale and slightly stubbled as it had been before the Hatter had decided to try to throttle the life from him. And when he spoke, his voice wasn't rough or strained, it sounded normal, through laced with awe. "Emma... what did you just do?"

"I... don't know... I didn't mean to... I just felt bad about you getting hurt cause of me and-" Emma cut herself off as August suddenly began tearing at his trouser leg the material was made of fire, tugging it up to his knee with clumsy hands. Both of them stared speechless as what appeared to be a wooden leg turned into flesh before their very eyes, a rippling effect spreading from where the flesh of his ankle appeared at his sock up past the knee-line and from the way August's legs instantly relaxed, all the way through the previously wooden appendage.

"You did it." August's voice was a husky, awed whisper as he stared down at his normal, human leg. "You saved me."

"Yeah... but how?" Emma asked awkwardly "I thought that this magic stuff was something you had to... you know...control?"

"I think your guilt must've directed your magic – even if you didn't realise it." August reasoned, his blue gaze moving up to fix on Emma with gratitude clear in it. "Thank you."

"Uh, sure, any time." Emma let out a shaky laugh, her eyes shining, but not with humour. It was more a tightly controlled kind of panic. The whole 'having magic' idea was still one she was struggling to deal with – especially on top of every other piece of weird crap that had piled up on her doorstep as of late. August seemed to notice and reached over to gently squeeze her hand, offering a weak smile Though it was much the same sort of attempt at comfort that Jefferson had given her back at the Red Queen's castle, it didn't garner quite the same effect - she felt slightly comforted, but it wasn't the same heart-melting warmth she had experiencing when Jefferson had done it.

Though she had delayed it as long as she could, she knew she now had to deal with the fall-out from what the Hatter had done to Jefferson. The look on his face was enough to make her heart twist in empathy and pain; it was so full of desolation and self-loathing that she knew she had to talk to him before he did something stupid in an act of regret. Emma removed her hand from August's and he nodded, moving off to the back of the cave where he had dropped the firewood before the fight and began working on making a fire to warm the chilly cave, and to give them some rudimentary privacy.

Emma stood shakily, striding slowly, but with purpose over to where Jefferson was still huddled, curled in the same position he had been since he had awoken. He didn't look up when she crouched down in front of him, or when she spoke his name softly, but wide, terrified, fragile china blue eyes shot up to fix on her face. He looked like he'd been through about fifty miles of bad road – exhausted, red-eyed, pale and running on adrenaline and guilt.

"Jefferson, stop it." Emma's voice was firm, but gentle. "You did what you thought you had to in order to survive, to get us all out of there alive. It wasn't _you_ who did any of this. It was the Hatter. I don't blame you and you shouldn't blame yourself."

"I w-was so c-cruel to you... I h-hurt you... oh god, I nearly-" Jefferson broke off, retching slightly as the memories of his second hand assault experience flooded through his eyes, Emma grasped his hand with hers and used the other to pull his gaze up to meet hers.

"I attacked the _Hatter_ and he retaliated – _that_ was my fault, I was the one initiate the violence there." Emma emphasized her words carefully. " _My_ fault. I provoked him."

She watched as Jefferson's gaze changed, it was now still and sober, he seemed utterly in control of himself now. This was the version of the man that she rarely saw – not a charming, psychotic version or a terrifying, angry one. A real, balanced person. "Why are you doing this?"

Emma raised an eyebrow in question and Jefferson sighed, a hand coming up to rub at his forehead slightly. "I don't deserve your protection or your forgiveness and here you are blaming yourself for the terrible things I made happen."

"If I never kissed you, if I never gave into my feelings, he wouldn't have become so obsessed – he wouldn't have wanted to find ways to hurt me through you." Jefferson's eyes shone as he reached up to stroke her cheek tenderly. "What's the point of me trying to be happy if it just leads to the Hatter hurting the one I love?"

Emma's heart stuttered and she gasped at the admittance, Jefferson flushed slightly, stumbling to correct his heart-felt words. "I m-meant t-that... I didn't-" Emma cut off his ramblings with a kiss, tears slipping down both of their cheeks and mingling as they shared a sweet, slow kiss that filled Emma with relief and a glow that was better than any amount of magic.

"You meant it." Emma breathed as they broke the lip contact for a moment, though still remained only inches apart. "And so do I."

"This is all a terrible idea you know." Jefferson told her, but his lips were curled in a tiny, genuine smile as he spoke. "You shouldn't trust me."

"Probably not." Emma agreed, a matching smile forming on her own lips. "But it can't end worse than the last time I fell in love."

Jefferson frowned slightly, his dark brows creasing. "Henry's father?"

Emma simply nodded, not wanting to overwhelm their already overtaxed brains and emotions with the whole sordid, heart-breaking tale. She rested her forehead against his chest, closing her eyes tiredly and shifting to lean up against him. Jefferson began to stroke her hair softly and she began to feel sleep seeping into the edges of her mind as she focussed on the calming motion of his breathing beneath her. Feeling heat spreading through the cave, she guessed that august had succeeded in lighting the fire, he had most likely witnessed the entire exchange and there was part of her that flared his embarrassment and a stirring of pity, but sleep pushed it away.

Just as she was about to drift off into the first peaceful sleep she'd had in days, a voice jolted her from her stupor. "Curiouser and curiouser!"

 **Thank you as ever to my loyal reviewers. This fic has been one I'm actually pretty proud of so far and I think it will continue on for a while still, I'm even considering writing a sequal if people are interested. Please keep up with the suggestions, questions, requests and reviews! They are much appreciated and very helpful!**


	28. Chapter 28

**We're all mad here**

In the mouth of the cave stood a figure – Emma couldn't call it a person due to the lack of distinctive features visible underneath the sweeping purple robes and cat mask that shared a similar plum shade to it. The loose fitting nature of the clothing and the cover that the mask provided made it hard for her to discern a gender or any other features as the person sidled through the cave entrance. There was something oddly familiar about the mask, but Emma couldn't quite place her finger on it, her fried brain working much slower than it usually would. Decapitation, torture, exhaustion, travel, magic powers and a madman will do that to you.

Her shoulder still throbbed keenly as the stitches had earlier been split apart by the Hatter, but she found that the pain was easier to ignore in the face of a potential threat. The brief, uneasy rest she had managed to grab while unconscious had woken her brain slightly but exhaustion still pulled at her aching limbs as she examined the new fun little oddity that Wonderland had thrown her way.

Though she couldn't see their face, Emma got the distinct impression that they were examining the cave and everything in as though appreciating the tasteful decor of a house. The way the cat mask was tilted to the side as they walked the space and the way the black leather gloved hands were clasped in front of the stranger gave an air of utter calm, yet at the same time there was a nervous excitement about the way they held themselves.

She felt August and Jefferson move to stand beside her as they grouped to face this stranger who had just walked into their shelter, both stanced protectively slightly in front of her. Emma was the first to speak as the stranger didn't seem inclined to explain their presence, moving to stand by the fire August had started at the back of the cave. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Have you been following us?" August asked, not a moment after Emma's questions left her mouth, the stranger seemed amused by them and crouched down in an oddly lithe movement to warm their hands by the fire. Though how any heat could be felt through those thick gloves Emma had no idea – it wasn't even that cold in here.

"Curiouser still." The murmur was soft and sounded amused.

"Did the Queen send you?" Jefferson's gaze hardened and he took a step forwards, clearly concerned but at the same time ready to fight or flee as the situation should arise. The stranger laughed in a sound like clattering glass and turned their masked face towards the three Storybrookers, the painted whiskers and feline features rimmed in glowing orange.

"I don't usually stoop to join in petty squabbles for power amongst royals." Emma heard a mischievous smile in the voice even if she couldn't see it and the stranger tilted his mask towards Emma. "But for you I seem to be making an exception."

Then, as if speaking words that weren't meant for someone else "How odd, I wonder how that is..."

The stranger proceeded to pull off their boots and placed them to dry by the fireside, stretching out long legs as they leant by the cave wall.

"Um... are you okay?" Emma muttered awkwardly, ensure of how to deal with the situation, glancing from Jefferson to August who both looked equally nonplussed.

"Is there something you wanted?" August asked, his tone tight with apparent annoyance and a hint of chagrin at the stranger's gall, he gripped Emma's arm and pushed her back behind him slightly, away from the stranger, but also, Emma noted, away from Jefferson.

"Are all people from your land so curious?" The stranger spoke with a light-hearted kind of irritation, but didn't turn towards them again, merely staring up at the orange firelight dancing on the cave ceiling in seeming fascination.

"Just the ones who are being stalked by cryptic weirdoes dressed as cats." August replied acerbically, clearly getting more annoyed by the minute – patience already having been stretched thin by the Hatter beforehand.

The stranger tilted the mask to observe August before a moment before asking in a quiet, confused seeming voice – sounding a bit like a lost child. "Can I talk to the shiny one again? She's much nicer."

Jefferson smirked slightly at that and Emma had to suppress her own smile at the priceless look on August's face. Emma gently moved both men aside and slowly approached the fireside to sit cross-legged on the other side of the cave from the stranger, though the others didn't move to stop her, they eyed her cautiously, taking a step closer. Emma peered closer into the eyeholes of the mask and was surprised as two large, cat-like yellow-amber eyes blinked back at her – black slitted pupils rimmed with gold. The stranger re-arranged his gangly seeming limbs to mimic her position – sitting cross-legged, and leant towards her around the edge of the low-burning flames.

"What is it you want to talk about?" Emma asked carefully, sensing something about this stranger that told her angering or pushing him would be a bad idea.

"Magic of course." The stranger replied brightly, as if it should be obvious.

"You have magic?" Jefferson's voice cut across the room sharply and he took another step forward, clearly suspicious of the stranger even more so now that magic had been mentioned. The stranger didn't remove his gaze from Emma and asked in a very quiet, scared seeming voice. "Make the Hat-man leave please."

Emma glanced up at Jefferson who looked distraught at the mention of the Hatter and at the request for him to leave her alone with a masked stranger. She turned her gaze back to the stranger and offered a weak, reassuring smile – the same kind she offered Henry whenever he said something that worried her. "He won't hurt you – Jefferson is okay now."

"No, no, no, no, no!" the stranger tutted, becoming obviously agitated and flapped gloved hands towards Jefferson. "He must go! Makes for too much madness in the room."

Emma blanched "Do you know him?"

"Of course not! But I can smell it on him." The stranger said, waving hands about in the air around them. "You could too if you had any sense! You shine brightly, _so shiny!_ But no sense whatsoever!"

The stranger tilted the mask to the side and yellow eyes narrowed at her, the mask caught the firelight in such a way that the plum colour looked burgundy and Emma felt a sudden flash of recognition. She had seen that mask before! In the Red Queen's palace when she had been brought before the court, in the sea of pale masked nobles there had been a single flash of colour in the form of a purple faced cat. Did everything in Wonderland have to adhere to the way the book made it seem? Or was everything just a twisted, nightmare version of what the fiction made it seem to be. "You were at the palace...he was right – you were following us weren't you?"

"Not following them." The stranger muttered, jabbing a thumb at Jefferson and August who looked confused and annoyed as ever, watching the conversation in silence – clearly trusting Emma to use her truth-detecting gift. "Following _you."_

"Why?" Emma asked, feeling slightly perturbed that everything in this land seemed zeroed in on her at the moment.

"You shine _so brightly!_ I just couldn't miss you." The stranger leaned in towards her, eyes gleaming intensely. "This land has been so boring as of late...the last twenty-eight years in fact. When you arrived I could see you shine brighter than any saviour I've ever encountered before and I just _knew_ you'd be fun."

"What do you mean 'I shine'? Do you mean my... magic?" Emma asked, entranced by the stranger's apparent knowledge of her role in the fairy-tale worlds.

"That, and the glow of the product of _truuue looove_ of course!" The stranger clapped gloved hands together and Emma blinked in surprise.

"Not related to Rumpelstiltskin by any chance are you?" Jefferson's tone was cracked with dry humour and even August chuckled slightly.

"Ha! I think not!" The stranger barked in a harsh laugh, rocking back slightly on the cross-legged position. "Only fools and madman make acquaintances with Rumpelstiltskin! Everyone knows that!"

Jefferson cleared his throat awkwardly and suddenly seemed to find something very interesting on his shoes. Emma huffed out a slight laugh of her own and turned her attention back to the stranger determinedly. "Who are you really?"

"I used to have a name... I think." Came the far-off seeming reply, doing the head-tilting thing again, yellow eyes looking at her questioningly. "But the only title that seems to have stuck and that I can still remember is The Cheshire mage... is that any help?"

"Like the Cheshire cat?" Emma asked in disbelief before she could stop herself, this time both August and Jefferson couldn't control their snorts of laughter. Emma threw them a slight glare, before re-focusing on their feline guest.

"I've only met one other who called me that. He was a fanciful fool – as writers often are." It was Emma's turn to snort as August turned slightly red in the face.

"You say you used to have a name? Why can't you remember what it is?" Emma asked gently after her mirth subsided.

"Back when I was a normal man, I had a name and a life, but that tale is far too long to relate right now – there is much to do and little enough time to do it in." Emma nodded in understanding as he – apparently – rose in one fluid motion and a sweep of purple embroidered robes. Emma clumsily uncurled herself, pins and needles suffusing her legs and stood as well.

"Are you going somewhere?" Emma enquired confusedly.

"You _were_ looking for the Pool of Tears were you not?" The mage asked briskly "I can take you there."

"Why would you do that for us?" Jefferson asked, still clearly suspicious.

"I'm bored." He said simply and moved with sudden apparent energy and purpose that belayed his earlier casual seeming nature. "And it's for _her_ – not you - Saviours are always good entertainment."

All of them stared after him as he strode from the cave into the dawn-lightened world of Wonderland, and then exchanged incredulous and confused looks.

"Should we trust him?" August voiced all of their doubts in the obvious question; eying Emma sceptically "Even _you_ should be able to smell crazy on the guy."

Emma shot him a glare at the obvious dig at Jefferson and her taste in men. She marched towards the entrance of the cave, calling back over her shoulder as she went. "Team crazy could do with a mascot and I always liked cats more than puppets"

August glared after her as Jefferson snorted in laughter at the disgruntled look on the ex-puppet's face. "See? She knows what she wants."

Exchanging filthy looks, August and Jefferson both hurried to follow Emma and The Cheshire Mage from the cave and into the new day. It dawned red.

 **Thank you as ever to my fantastic reviewers and welcome to the newbie :)**

 **Hope everyone is enjoying it so far and I promise answers will come as well as more Jefferson/Emma relationship fluff and building. Quick question though - anyone averse to sex or anything graphic?**


	29. Chapter 29

**While those good men do their good work...**

The Queen of Hearts was not the sort of person that was good to wake on the best of days. So when Ivan discovered the 'Crimson Crazy' (as the guards had taken to calling her when they were sure no one was around) unconscious and surrounded by dead guards in an otherwise empty cell, he was understandably concerned for his own wellbeing. As her personal guard of over twenty years - since the last one was killed in a fit of fury – he knew that underneath the fiery temper and sadistic tendencies, she was in fact a terrified little girl, desperately afraid of disappointing her mother. Even after the last Queen's swift departure, her influence over Miranda was painfully obvious; it saddened Ivan to see a daughter abused by her own mother's mere memory.

He was one of perhaps three people in Wonderland or any of the related worlds that knew that Miranda was not actually her mother, the veil and similar dress sense fooled those who actually gained an audience with the Queen as none had ever seen Miranda or her mother. When he had first been assigned as her guards all those years ago, he had become aware of the true situation of the royal family, and over the years he had gradually got to know Miranda and the woman she truly was behind the cruel facade. While he would never call her a sweet or kind woman, she wasn't as heartless as she seemed to the rest of the world, the cruelty was ingrained into her by her mother through fear and the inherent need children possessed to please their parents.

Through long duties spent guarding her during almost all of his waking moments, they had grown close and he had grown protective of her past the mere job that his uncle had got him two decades ago. Though no one in Wonderland had aged in the past twenty-eight years, the Queens had both been very cagey on the subject as to why or how that was, however from his status he had discovered that it was due to the Evil Queen of the Enchanted Forest casting a powerful curse. Ivan should have been forty two this summer, but still held the look of the fresh faced sixteen year-old he had been when he started his role as the queen's protector.

He had risen to the rank so quickly after only a year of general guard work after the Queen had discovered his talent for healing magic and had assigned him to the rank as per his uncle's wishes. Magic was a rare enough gift in Wonderland that his uncle had insisted he demonstrate it for his own advantage, and a natural skill for healing like the one Ivan possessed was enough to hold him in a favourable enough light so that the Queen felt he was worth employing.

So, as he leant to down to check on the feebly stirring monarch, he felt real concern flicker through him at the sight of the large bloody mark on her forehead, he gently brushed back the veil in order to examine the wound. A wave of his palm and a spattering of silver sparks and the wound had disappeared, leaving only the blood to mark that it had ever been there. A claw like grip snatched his wrist and pulled his hand away harshly, Miranda's beautifully mismatched eyes glowered up at him with boiling rage. Ivan hastily pulled his hand back, grateful for the black cloth covering his blushing cheeks, using his other hand to help the queen to her feet once more.

"Where are they?!" The Queen snapped at him and he stood straight to attention at the usual commanding tone of her voice.

"The prisoners escaped through the hedge maze several hours ago and were seen heading for the Mountains of Division after having defeated half of the Crimson guard." As he spoke he cringed inwardly, watching the Queen's face turn the infamous crimson and her eyes flashed dangerously.

"HOW?!" She thundered, striding out of the cell, Ivan hurrying in her wake, carefully manoeuvring around the dead and unconscious bodies of the guards.

"Magic, my lady - the Crimson guard reported the blonde woman having powerful magic, as well as the criminal known as the Hatter's natural affinity for violence." The Queen's fury seemed to increase with each step she took, slamming open the door to her chambers with violent force, her dark hair billowing free of her veil behind her. He was struck, as he often was, at how beautiful she would be if her heart were not so foul and tainted by the evil of another woman's hateful nature.

Ivan moved to hurriedly close the doors behind them as Miranda went straight to the mirror at her vanity, pulling various herbs and jars out of drawers on the table – clearly about to start a spell of some kind. Most likely one to find the errant prisoners. As much as he pitied the Queen and her coerced facade of cruel behaviour, he also found himself pitying the unfortunate madman that his uncle had guarded for the entire time the poor sod had been held captive by Miranda's mother.

He doubted that anyone deserved the sort of torture that his uncle had described, and didn't envy the fate that would befall either him or his friends should Miranda find them before they found a way out of Wonderland. And considering the fact that it took the first Red Queen years to find a way out, he doubted the foreigners' chances of doing so before they were caught. Not that he was planning on helping them mind you – he was sympathetic, but he wasn't mad, or suicidal.

"Blood." The dreaded command snapped through the silence like a whip and Ivan reluctantly moved forward to stand by the Queen, rolling up his sleeve as he went, pulling off his leather glove to expose the scarred skin of his wrist. It had occurred so often now that Ivan was mostly used to the requirement of blood for the Queen's castings, but it didn't mean that he had to like it; it was only his healing skills that had allowed him to give blood so frequently without too much issue.

Miranda picked up the usual knife, gold and magic inlaid into the handle to enhance the spell's power and slashed it across Ivan's proffered wrist. He winced slightly as it bit deeper than usual because of the Queen's bad temper, but made no comment – his blood was more valuable than any other guard's would be due to the magic running through his veins.

She collected the blood that spilled from the wound in a bowl filled with various powders and herbs, causing the mixture to smoke and hiss before turning a bright crimson. The potion was then thrown across the surface of the mirror, the crimson liquid flowing in an unnatural way to cover the whole surface in a smooth coating, not a drop spilling from the glass.

With a wave of his hand the skin was sealed shut once more and he replaced his glove and sleeve as the Queen focussed hard on the mirror. Her icy green and brown eyes intent enough to almost crack the glass, the smooth coating of blood began to shimmer and separate, spinning in a dizzying vortex of colours until an image began to form on the glass. The picture was blurred and indistinct until the Queen hissed something angrily, moving a hand across the mirror's surface, they could now make out a group of three people hiking up a mountain path. The leading figure was clearly the blonde witch from before, and the two men accompanying her were most likely the Hatter and their accomplice. The witch was turned slightly towards her left as she walked, and her mouth was moving as if talking to someone, but Ivan could see no one there.

However the image only lasted for a moment or so before Miranda gasped, as if in pain and her eyes widened in shock. There was a flash of bright purple light from the mirror and she retracted her hand as though burned - the image gone. Ivan moved forwards to catch her as she staggered backwards, but she steadied herself against the vanity instead, panting slightly, looking confused and angry.

"My Queen?" Ivan ventured cautiously "Are you alright? What was that?"

"I don't know..." She murmured eyes dark and unfocussed. "It was magic – powerful magic, but not the saviour's... but it wasn't dark either...it was... something else."

Miranda shook herself slightly and straightened, her eyes flashing back to their usual fierce determination as she marched towards the doors of her chambers, Ivan following in her wake. "It doesn't matter, I'm going to find that little witch, her puppet friend, and make sure that the Hatter watches as I skin them alive."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After engaging in some fairly average conversation about Wonderland with the so-called 'Cheshire Mage', Emma was startled out of her wits when the man began to giggle unaccountably in the middle of her question on the geography of Wonderland. He began waving his hands about in the air around his head and continued to laugh madly, spinning in little circles on the spot. She looked at him askance and Jefferson and August were soon standing by her, hurried forward from their previously lagging position at the back of the group. "What's so funny?"

The Cheshire mage simply continued to walk onward, weaving across the path slightly and chortling softly to himself - the masked head shaking from side to side like a snake. The three Storybrookers exchanging looks of 'what the hell' before August chose to voice their unanimous concerns once more. "I'm worried he's going to do something crazy very soon."

"He dresses as a cat, giggles manically, talks nonsense and occasionally stalks women for being 'shiny'" Jefferson pointed out in a drawling tone, fixing August with a somewhat sceptical and patronising look. "Define crazy."

"That's a good point actually. On a scale of 'worried he's going to run around throwing flowers on us' to 'worried he's going to kill us and steal our teeth in our sleep' what are you ranking?" Emma added, raising a blonde eyebrow at August, a slight smirk on her lips. He shot her a withering scowl.

"Both? I don't know! The guy just shows up out of the blue and claims he wants to help – after _you saw_ him at the Queen's palace – and you are just going to trust him?"

" _You_ just showed up out of the blue in Storybrooke and started trying to make me believe in magic, ride around on your motorcycle and ask me out for drinks!" Emma pointed out, crossing her arms. Jefferson's eyebrows rose to impressive levels at the mention of motorcycles and drinks being offered, though Emma wasn't sure if it was due to mirth, disbelief or jealousy. "I'm not saying I trust him, but he hasn't given me reason not to yet. If I stopped taking chances on strangers now I'd be on my own, and in Wonderland, that doesn't seem like a good place to be. But he has magic and he knows where he's going. As long as we keep an eye on him we should be fine until we get out of here."

"She's right you know." They spun to see that the Cheshire Mage hadn't actually moved more than ten paces away from them and was standing on the next rise, the red dawn light illuminating his mask in a slightly eerie manner. "You should keep an eye on me."

With that, he turned away and resumed pace up the incline, Emma hurried to shadow him, glancing back to August and Jefferson as they followed at a much slower pace. As she was turning back to fix her gaze on the mage's purple robed back she heard him mutter in such a quiet voice that she was almost unsure as to whether she actually heard it or not. "And I'll keep an eye on them."

 **Muhahaha. That is all.**


	30. Chapter 30

**Something wicked that way went**

The Hatter was being unusually quiet considering he had been forced back yet again by Jefferson and Emma's combined despair and willpower. Usually his darker half would be screaming and clawing at the barrier between them, but as Jefferson and the strange little band they'd formed hiked through the Mountains of Division, the Hatter sat quiet and seemingly peaceful. It was both unnerving and a relief at the same time. Jefferson supposed that the Hatter thought he'd sufficiently traumatised both of them for the time being, and he didn't want to tempt fate by asking his insane half.

He carefully watched the so-called Cheshire Mage converse with Emma up ahead, from the brief snatches of conversation he could overhear; they were talking about Wonderland and magic. He supposed that it would be a good idea for Emma to learn more about her new powers and how to control them, but he was still dubious of her decision to trust another madman. As much as he loathed the ex-puppet who was hiking along beside him, he had to agree with August's distrust of this strange cat-obsessed magician – not that he'd admit it to his rival.

It was clear that August was trying to vie for Emma's affections and likely had been since the moment he'd come to Storybrooke, the mention of asking Emma out for drinks had irritated him to no end. Not only because of the idea of the smug, pretentious bastard flirting with her, but because it reminded him that he could never be as casual as August could with her – alcohol often brought out his worst side and he wouldn't ever risk the Hatter hurting her. Jefferson knew that he couldn't really offer Emma a normal relationship, what with the splintered nature of his mind as well as the added issue of Grace and Henry – from what he'd seen watching others everyday lives in Storybrooke, children made any relationship complicated. August was unattached and probably a whole lot more mentally stable than Jefferson would ever be; especially now the issue of turning back into a wooden puppet had been solved. Did Emma care for the puppet?

Jefferson still held lingering doubts in his mind that Emma had only returned his feelings as a reaction to the immense pressure that the last few days had placed upon her – bonding closer to her travelling companion as a coping mechanism. Was any of it real? How could he tell? The only serious relationship he had ever held had been with Pricilla before her death and that had been many years ago – before the Hatter, and before the curse; before Grace. Though Emma reminded him a little of her – her strength and fiery nature, he doubted that Emma was as open emotionally as his wife had been. Emma had been hurt before, by Henry's father, and he got the distinct feeling that he had been the reason Emma had shut herself off emotionally. Until recently.

There was only one way of sorting through these issues and worries – by talking to Emma about them. She likely had questions and worries of her own, but it would likely be best until they were back in Storybrooke before straddling the fifty foot fence that was their potential relationship. None of this was going to be easy, but Emma's mere presence seemed to quell the Hatter, so maybe, just maybe... they could do this.

As Jefferson looked upon her now, he could see her brow furrow slightly as she listened to whatever the Cheshire Mage was telling her – thankfully not in a concerned way, more pensive, clearly mulling over his words. August had also had his gazed fixed upon Emma for most of the journey so far, until he glanced to notice Jefferson's matching stare and glared slightly. "I still don't see it I'm afraid."

Jefferson sighed at the irksome interruption of his contemplation, listening to the choice words that the Hatter wanted to throw back at him he smirked slightly, deciding to channel a toned down version of what his darker half wanted to say. "What you see or do not see bothers me very little puppet, so I suggest you keep it to yourself, I can only imagine your throat must still be a little sore."

August raised an eyebrow at him and his hands clenched slightly at his sides, clearly still feeling wary of Jefferson's dark side that he still didn't understand. "I'm only trying to protect Emma from violent psychopaths; surely even someone like you could understand that."

"You were sent here by Rumpelstiltskin - that alone tells me that you are in no place to judge character." Jefferson pointed out loftily

"That's a bit rich coming from a man who used to work for him." August retorted with a snide smirk.

"You shouldn't trust everything you read." Jefferson said shortly, hastening his step to fall into line beside Emma further up the path. He was getting irritated with August's constant references to the book that mapped all of the stories and only simplified people's entire lives into cautionary tales. Granted, he had used the argument that books were all stories written about one truth or another when trying to convince Emma, but books were never the entire story. People weren't as simple as storybooks made them seem.

The sudden burst of speed he had put on to catch up with the two magic users caused his injured leg to burn once again, the wound was healing slowly, but the stitches had been ripped open, causing the process to be encumbered considerably. Glancing to the side at Emma, he noticed the place where his very own fingers had torn open her shoulder wound, her leather tunic was still opened up enough so that he could see the bloodstained wrappings beneath. Guilt seeped into his thoughts as he remembered what the Hatter – what he – had done to her. Maybe Emma would be better off without him in her life; all he had done so far was cause her pain and trouble.

"Hey, you okay there?" He looked up slightly startled to see Emma's concerned forest green gaze fixed upon his face, there was a light in her eyes that he couldn't help but be slightly calmed by. He reached out and took her hand as they continued their trek, softly stroking his thumb along the side of her soft skin. The Cheshire Mage made a clucking sound with his tongue at the sign of affection and fell back into step beside August instead. Jefferson and Emma both snorted in laughter as they heard the words "Fancy a game of I Spy?" and an exasperated sigh.

"I'm fine." Jefferson murmured, sending her a soft smile "Just the leg playing up a bit."

Emma's brow furrowed again, but this time with what looked like a combination of guilt and concern. "Sorry about that."

He chuckled slightly "I'm pretty sure that I deserved it and a lot more my dear."

Emma's hand in his tensed at his words, her eyes widening slightly in bewilderment - quickly searching his own. It took him a moment to realise that the term of endearment was one that the Hatter usually used and cursed his own carelessness with his words. "Sorry, Emma, it's still me, I didn't meant to-"

"Thank god." Emma breathed out, closing her eyes for a moment, suddenly looking much more tired than before. "Sorry if I'm a little jumpy... it's been a long week."

"You... have no idea how sorry I am... for all of this." Jefferson spoke softly and earnestly, searching her gaze. "When we get back to Storybrooke... I'll understand if you don't want to see me anymore."

Emma bit her lip slightly, her frown deepening in consternation. "Jefferson... as I said, this has all been a lot to handle – I discovered fairytale stories are real, I realised that my parents are Snow White and Prince goddamn Charming! And on top of it all, that I have magic and am supposed to be a fricking Saviour who's meant to save said fairy-tale characters from Henry's adoptive mother – who just happens to be the Evil Queen." She took a deep breath to calm herself before continuing in a more reasonable tone. "I haven't been in any sort of relationship since Henry's father knocked me up and got me thrown in jail for a case full of watches he stole."

Jefferson felt righteous anger flow through him at the thought of any man doing something so selfish and cruel to Emma – especially when the genuine pain in her voice told that she must have cared for him a great deal. He restrained his fury however, lest the Hatter use it as a foothold to climb back into the driver's seat. Instead, he brushed his thumb over her hand and nodded in a solemn manner for her to continue.

"I do care about you Jefferson, I really do, but I need some time to get everything straight in my head." Emma said and Jefferson nodded once again. "I need to think about what's good for Henry first and if I'm going to have to apparently fight his adopted mother; I need to think of how I can provide a stable home for him before I can think about anything else."

"Of course Emma, I understand. I have Grace to think of as well." Jefferson's voice trembled slightly as he spoke, thinking of the challenges that would face him as a father. "I don't know if I can be around Grace, I can't risk the Hatter hurting her, but I can't abandon her again. When the curse breaks she might not even want to see me again – I left her alone for years."

Emma squeezed his arm slightly and his raised his gaze to meet hers, his china blue eyes shining with repressed tears. "I'm sure she'll want to have you back Jefferson, if there's one thing that being an orphan has taught me, it's that I would have rather had a family who came back late than never at all."

"I suppose you're right." Jefferson murmured, realizing that Emma spoke the truth – if he never tried going back to Grace than he would never know. "You're amazing, you know that right?"

"Yeah, well I'm supposed to save people right? It's probably in the job description of being a Saviour after all." Emma shot him a weak smile, which he returned, leaning in to press a brief kiss to her sweet, pink lips.

"It's bad enough having to bring the Hat man along, but do you really have to be so...slobbery with him?" The Cheshire Mage's whiny tone broke off their kiss as both snorted in laughter and heard a corresponding huff of annoyance from August.

"I told you earlier Chesh, he's not that bad really." Emma called back over her shoulder as the back two walkers drew closer. Jefferson raised an eyebrow at the nickname and Emma shrugged. "It was getting a pain to keep calling him **'** The Cheshire Mage' all the time."

"Well if I could remember my name, you could use that, but for now I suppose that will do." The newly christened 'Chesh' grumbled before pointing up to a turn in the path. The track ran around the side of the next mountain, thin and winding, loose stones littering the dirt path as it disappeared up into the light mist that wreathed the peak. "This way, it isn't that much further, but you might want to think about getting some warmer clothing."

"Where from?!" Emma gaped at him incredulously and Chesh turned to fix her with a seemingly withering look before indicating over his shoulder. Carved deep into the bluish hued rock face ahead of them was a small dwelling, one shuttered window that had blue crocuses emblazoned onto it and a small wooden door. Just above the door was a sign in two hanging parts – the bottom part wasn't easily legible from here as it had been crossed out, but as they moved closer Jefferson read the top half aloud in a highly sceptical voice. "Wandering Oaken's trading post?"

 **Hello again people! Sorry about delays again - been updating old fics by request and suffering from writer's block. Thank you to my amazing reviewers - I love the lot of you! Requests, follows and reviews are craved as per usual. There is liable to be a sex scene at some point, but as per feedback, I shall put a warning at the start of the chapter when it happens, and I shall not put any important plot bits in it so the story can still be followed if you want to avoid smut!**

 **Also, I feel that I've been mean to August in this fic, despite the fact that I like his character, so I would like pairing suggestions for him that I will involve briefly later on.**


	31. Chapter 31

**Hell Broke Luce**

Emma regarded the makeshift shop sceptically. Why there was a 'trading post' carved into the side of a mountain in the most inaccessible area of Wonderland, she had no idea, but from the look of the snow capped peaks high above them, they would likely need warmer clothes. Chesh led the way with a surprisingly purposeful stride, his purple robes sweeping out behind him in a dramatic manner as he pushed the shop door open. The rest followed slightly more warily into the dimmer space of the tightly crammed shop – hundreds of random seeming items clustered on shelves and hanging from the ceiling.

"Yoo Hoo!" A painfully cheerful voice called from across the room and Emma turned to see a largely built, sweater clad man seated behind a wooden counter, grinning at her jovially. He appeared to be wearing lederhosen and a knitted cap that perched on top of his head in an equally jovial fashion. "What can I get for you ladies?"

Emma snorted in laughter at the expression on Jefferson and August's faces as they followed her into the proprietor's line of sight and his blue eyes lightened in apparent recognition as they landed upon Jefferson. "Mr Hatter man! Such a joy to see you again! What have you got for me this time?"

"Oaken? I didn't think it could be you, last I heard you had abandoned this post for your one in Arendale." Jefferson moved towards the counter with a bemused expression on his face and the large man chuckled in response.

"Yah, the trade in Arendale was much better before the whole continent froze. I have posts all over the related worlds, but have been having trouble getting to them recently for some reason." A slight frown creased Oaken's cheerful face. "Had to leave the family there and make my living over here instead – not safe for them here you see."

"Frozen over?" Jefferson questioned, eyebrows raised. "How'd that happen?"

"Magic of course, but let's not talk of such things yah? What were you needing?" Oaken asked in a re-awakened cheerfulness, looking from each customer to the next quizzically. "I'm afraid I haven't the resources here to make the sauna work, but Oaken still has everything else you could need!"

Chesh, who had been oddly quiet until now, merely prowling around the assorted items with an interested look shining in his yellow eyes, now perked up. "They will need clothes, food and cloaks."

"Yah, I have all these things – bargains in the winter sale!" Oaken exclaimed, pointing to a shelf lined with thick looking cloaks, gloves, hats and several piles of indistinguishable clothing towards the back of the shop. Emma moved over to the indicated area, pulling three cloaks out and throwing a black one to Jefferson, a blue one to August and keeping hold of the burgundy one for herself.

Jefferson and August wrapped the material around themselves, fastening it over their own clothing – the guard's uniform that August sported was likely fairly warm already so would do. Jefferson's mysteriously re-claimed leather ensemble looked like it would be highly impractical, but the man did not touch any of the clothes Emma offered him – shaking his head. "I've held onto this outfit for as long as I can remember – I'm not abandoning it now."

Emma sighed at the touch of protectiveness that entered Jefferson's tone and stepped forward to stand in front of him, reaching up to re-adjust his leather collar and gently rub his cheek. He smiled in a sweet, boyish way as he looked back down at her, his blue eyes like a shimmering summer blue sky as he put his hand over hers for a moment. He broke her out of her haze by clearing his throat and commenting. "You might want to re-consider the bloodstained, ripped leather shirt and tank-top look though Emma."

Emma looked down at herself and for the first time realized the state she was in – her borrowed leather shirt was still unfastened, revealing her ripped and bloody white vest underneath and the equally ruined bandages half unravelled around her wound. With all the running, arguing, magic and fighting she hadn't really been paying attention to the deterioration of her outfit or wound. "Oh...yeah."

"Oaken? Where are your bandages and medical supplies?" Jefferson called across the shop, but before the large man could reply Chesh was suddenly in front of Emma, hands pulling at her clothing in such a way that she way too surprised to even bat him off.

"Oh don't bother with that, this is much easier." Chesh muttered, pulling a glove off of one hand and quickly placing it on Emma's now bared wound. Emma gasped both in shock at the mage's abrupt and blunt nature, but also at the fact that the hand now on her shoulder was _furry_.

"What the-" Emma cut herself off as she felt a sudden warmth flow through her body, originating from an area that had previously been flickering between being completely numb and firing with agony. She looked down at where the furry, clawed ginger hand was on her shoulder and saw that it was glowing with a bright purple light. Chesh then broke off the contact, slipping his glove back on with a flourish, Emma gasped as there was a surge of tingling that swept through her body. The pain was gone. And looking back down at her shoulder, she saw that the wound had been reduced to a puckered, white scar.

"There we go!" That's much better now isn't it?" The cat-masked mage exclaimed in a tone almost as bright as Oaken's had been.

"If you can do that, then why didn't you do it earlier?" August asked over Emma's other shoulder, giving Chesh a suspicious glare.

"You didn't ask." He replied simply, turning his back on them and moved over to inspect what looked like a collection of dream-catchers made of bones, feathers and twigs.

"I didn't ask this time either." Emma pointed out, moving over to examine the dream-catchers with a misty look clouding her forest green eyes like early morning fog. Her own memories caught in the time that she and Neal had decided to find somewhere to settle down, in that tiny little room that had just been vacated by the hippy family. She had never been so happy until that moment in her life – Neal had been the first man she had ever though she could love... but he had betrayed her.

Emma was pulled back into reality as Chesh let out an exasperated sigh and told them he was going to wait outside, muttering something as he went about "dilly-dallying" and "shiny idiots." Jefferson threw a pile of clothes to Emma from across the shop which she caught and unfolded, only to eye it sceptically.

"A dress? Seriously?"

"If there were any other options here I would have given them to you." Jefferson offered her a slightly sheepish smile; she continued to glare until he looked away awkwardly. "Your current clothes can barely be called that – just go and change."

Emma sighed once more and turned to ask Oaken if there was somewhere she could change in relative privacy. "Oh yah, you can use the sauna through the back, not like I can use it anyway."

Emma headed to the back of the shop where another door was carved into the stone and the inside of which was lined with wooden panels and seats all centred around the coal pit. The room was quite warm even without the fire going and Emma made quick work of stripping off the bloody and tattered remnants of leather and bandages that she had been wearing.

Standing there in nothing but her underwear she held out the dress in front of her with incredulity – the thing was made of a thick reddish brown cotton-like material and even had corset laces up the front. _Stupid dress._ Emma bit the proverbial bullet and slipped the material over her head, struggling when it came to figuring out the laces at the front of the blasted thing, the strings just became tangled as she tried to work them and she quickly became frustrated, cursing under her breath.

There came a light tap on the sauna door and Jefferson peeked his head around the edge, only to smirk as he saw the trouble she was having. "Need a hand?"

Emma huffed in annoyance and nodded, Jefferson's smirk widened and he closed the door behind him as he came over to stand before Emma. She was very aware of how low cut and tight the dress was around her chest as the taller, lanky man stood before her in the enclosed space. His nimble Hatter's fingers made quick of untangling the mess she had made as he laced the corset up over her chest, for some reason her breathing increased slightly as Jefferson's fingers brushed over her clothed breast. With each tightening of the laces she found it slightly harder to breathe – she wasn't sure if it was because of the restrictive garment itself, or because of the heated gaze she could feel pinned on her face.

She swallowed as her throat suddenly seemed rather dry and risked glancing up at Jefferson's eyes; he was staring down at her with a coy smile tugging at the corner of his lips, hands frozen on the last lace fastening. She became aware of how close they were in the small space of the sauna; she took a deep breath to try to collect her seemingly scattered thoughts, but was slightly dismayed yet interested to find that she was only breathing in Jefferson's scent. It was a strangely pleasant mixture of leather, wet earth, and most oddly of all – cinnamon. She smiled slightly at the thought, leaning up to gently press her lips to his pouty pink ones, he met her with passion and his mouth opened to allow her better access.

Her arms went to wrap themselves around his waist, pushing under the cloak in a way that made him shift under her hands and move his own hands to cup the back of her neck. Emma felt warmth flow through her as the kiss deepened, both of them shifting closer to one another until the back of Jefferson's knees hit the wooden seat behind him and he buckled onto it, Emma following him down to land on his lap. Both of them giggled slightly at the abrupt change of position, Emma leaning back to stare into his cobalt blue eyes- wait _cobalt_ blue. Oh shit.

Emma attempted to leap back off of the Hatter's lap with a shriek, but he kept one hand pinned around her waist, keeping her in place while slapping the other over her lips. Her eyes went wide with fear and disbelief, her body going rigid as the Hatter stared at her in a pointed manner. There was silence for several seconds before she heard a commotion going on outside of the room in the shop, there was the sound of crashing and Oaken's accented voice rose above the din. "You have no right to do this! I pay my fees on time-"

Another voice cut across the distraught sounding shop-keep, harsh and authoritative. "It's nothing to do with you fool, we're here to take this fugitive back to her majesty to face her sovereign justice."

There was the sound of fists hitting flesh and a grunt of pain that Emma was sure belonged to August – the Red Guard were here, they were taking him away. Was this why the Hatter was back here? He had come to escape the Queen's soldiers and abandon August at the same time – no doubt a situation that the Hatter would see as a win-win. She tried again to pull away from his grip but he only pressed down his grip harder and shook his head at her with a look of warning in his dark eyes.

"Take him to the Queen!" The guard spoke again and there were the sounds of numerous footsteps tramping out of the shop, no doubt taking August with them. "If you see the other fugitives – a woman with blonde hair and a madman with dark hair – you will report it immediately to the next member of the Royal guard you encounter."

"I...of course." Oaken's voice sounded strained and there were the sounds of another set of footsteps before the shop door slammed shut again. The Hatter waited for another minute or so before releasing Emma, who immediately rose, backing away from him and rushing into the main shop. She looked around at the general chaos, the broken boxes and discarded item strewn about on the floor and then to the concerned looking proprietor. The look on his face reminded Emma of a kicked puppy.

"I'm sorry lady; the Red Guard took your friend." Oaken told her in a dejected tone; Emma nodded before heading towards the door. Oaken opened his mouth as if to stop her, but then took one look at the determined expression on her face before closing it again.

"Put it all on my account Oaken – I doubt we'll be getting that cloak back intact." The Hatter's snide, casual tone sounded from behind Emma and she froze in front of the door, her hands shaking with barely repressed rage. She could hear his footsteps as he sauntered up behind her, she could practically see the smug smirk plastered over his cruel features. "Not unless the Queen wants to return the rags she uses to mop up the blood after she's finished with him."

Emma let out a low snarl of rage and turned to face the Hatter, eyes blazing with fury and magic before he went flying back across the room and into the sauna door, there was an accompanying flash of white light and the Hatter did not get back up again. Emma spared not even a thought for his – or Jefferson's safety – as she turned leave, storming out onto the mountain path once again.

"Well that was rather dramatic wasn't it?"

 **Hello *ducks out from under the rock she's been hiding under for over 10 days* sorry bout that... but life. Thank you very much to my super duper reviewers as per usual and welcome to my very VERY enthusiastic fan ShadowTeir - you're awesome too.**


	32. Chapter 32

**No ordinary Fool**

"I'm in no mood for games Chesh." Emma growled, not even turning to face the masked mage as she headed back down the path that they had only recently climbed. She didn't want to think about the Hatter, Chesh or Oaken – she just wanted to get August back and leave _Wonderland_ once and for all. It seemed that at every turn of her journey there seemed to be unseen forces (or one sadistic force) preventing her from simply leaving this blasted land. Every damn time she caught a moment with Jefferson, something ridiculous or terrible always seemed to happen.

She missed Henry, she missed Mary-Margaret, she missed her Yellow Bug and she was surprised to discover that she even missed Storybrooke. Though she hadn't been there very long, she had rooted herself more in the strange little town than she had anywhere she'd ever been before. Even with Regina Mr Gold creating a distinctly unfriendly atmosphere wherever they went, after facing down the Mad Hatter and The Red Queen, Emma felt less daunted by the idea of fighting the erstwhile Evil Queen.

"Now you see, that is your problem – you treat everything far too seriously." Chesh commented in an irritatingly chipper tone as he side stepped along beside Emma's brisk pace with apparent ease, a spring in his step. Emma simply chose to ignore him as she strode onwards, determination setting her face in a severe frown. "You Saviours are all the same - you spend far too much time saving others lives to actually live your own."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped back at him, irritated more than usual by the mage's antics.

"Never met a single Saviour who stopped long enough to listen to the voice of reason... or is it madness? I can never remember..." Chesh trailed off slightly, then shrugged and jumped around to place himself squarely in Emma's path; she stopped abruptly, crossing her arms in exasperation.

"If you have something important to say, just say it now, or get the hell out of my way Chesh, I've got a Royal red ass to kick."

"Rather than traipsing back across half of Wonderland to storm a castle, defeat hundreds of armed guards, rescue a damsel in distress and attempting to kill a queen after defeating her personal bodyguard- why don't you try catching up with the Red Guard before they return to the queen's castle?"

Emma almost did a double take at the surprisingly reasonable and coherent suggestions that were coming from one of the craziest people she'd ever met. "Well... that makes sense... but how do we catch up with them? I don't know Wonderland and they have a head start"

"While I resent having to think of _everything_ for you Saviour, I might point out that we could use the land to our advantage." Chesh took Emma by the arm and turned her to look over the nearest precipice to look out across the dark expanse of the Fungal Forest. She felt unnerved by how close they currently were to the edge of the cliff; the land suddenly sloped down dramatically mere feet away and then disappeared in a sudden fifty foot drop.

"If you're suggesting that we jump-" Emma started before Chesh tutted loudly and shook her arm in a seemingly exasperated manner.

"Of course not, silly girl! I'm showing you that there may be a more _natural_ way to dispose of the Red Queen's men than simply throwing them about like rag dolls in the hope of not being out-numbered."

Emma frowned in confusion for several moments before her eyes fell onto the mushroom caps that formed the forest's namesake... and remembered what Jefferson had told her about them before. Some were poison...and some were known to cause hallucinations. If she could find a way to harness the properties of those fungi to her advantage from a distance, she would be able to incapacitate the soldiers without having to exhaust herself or risk being overwhelmed. "The mushrooms..."

"Finally! She gets it!" Chesh crowed, waving his hands up as if gesturing to some invisible and equally exasperated onlooker.

"What can we do to make those mushrooms work on the soldiers without getting too close?" Emma asked

"Well burning them would do it." Chesh replied, mask tilting slightly to the side as he looked at her in what she felt was a pointed manner.

"I'm guessing magic could do that for me right?" Emma ventured, raising one blonde eyebrow at him, he nodded with a delighted chuckle. "And I'm also guessing you could show me how to do that."

"Well you seemed to figure out throwing people about on your own, but I suppose I could give you a bit of guidance on this front." Chesh shook off one of his leather gloves, once again revealing his strangely furred, yet human shaped hand, sharp-looking black claws glistening at the ends of his fingers as he flexed his hand. "Don't like using fire magic all that much myself – singes the fur right off, very annoying."

Emma had to stifle a slight giggle at the thought of him getting irritated by singed fur and stretched out her hand in front of her in the same way that Chesh was doing – palm facing the sky and fingers curled inwards. "What next?"

"Focus all of your negative feelings – your anger, frustration, anything that could-" Before Chesh even finished his guidance there were two bright white flame burning ten feet in the air, originating from each of Emma's hands. Chesh was speechless for several moments before he took a significant step backwards away from Emma who took the hint and ceased the streams of flames, shaking out her hands and wiping them on her dress slightly.

"How did you do that?" Chesh asked, sounding genuinely vexed for once, Emma shrugged.

"I've had a long week alright?" She replied in a feigned innocent tone and though she couldn't see Chesh's face she got the distinct feeling that he was raising an eyebrow at her.

"Alrighty then." Chesh muttered and proceeded to turn and stare down the sudden drop before them, head tilted again in that odd way of his. "Come look at this."

Emma moved over to step up next to him, peering cautiously over the edge of the precipice to try to see whatever it was he was looking at, but determinedly keeping her boots away from the direct edge, still wary of the potential to fall. All she could see was the slope, the drop and the woven branches of the forest far below them, unsure of what she was supposed to be looking at she glanced toward her travelling companion warily. "How far down would you reckon that drop is?"

"I don't know really, maybe fifty feet?"

Chesh nodded thoughtfully, looking her up and down before glancing back down at the cliff then nodded again.

It was at that moment that Chesh chose to push her off the edge of the cliff.

She barely stifled a scream as she rolled bodily down the short slope of rock before she went plummeting off the edge of the cliff, hurtling through the open air. Her whole world was suddenly a spinning, sickening blur of red sky, bluish hued mountain side and multi-coloured mushrooms as she flipped and rolled through the air. She somehow managed to flip herself horizontally so that she was facing downwards just as the ground came to meet her face hard.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rumpelstiltskin was not the most patient of men at the best of times, but even less so when it came to waiting for others to do his dirty work while he was stuck helpless on the sidelines. Admittedly, he could have been the one to travel to Wonderland to retrieve the oh-so-important Saviour who would be the one to release them all from the curse, but in all honesty, he had not wanted to risk it. Any number of things could have happened in his absence from Storybrooke – including Regina discovering his dagger or the people regaining their memories and rioting; possibly ruining all of his carefully laid plans. He also had not wanted to risk the dangers of Wonderland itself, including Cora, the local wildlife and the vast variety of madman that seemed to flock to the techni-coloured wasteland.

Sending August had seemed like a good idea at the time as Emma would likely trust him more than she would the 'baby-stealing', florist-beating Mr Gold that she had known since her arrival in Storybrooke. However several days had now passed since the spell that had used up nearly all of his already miniscule supply of magic that he had brought with him to this land and cultivated over the past twenty-eight years. There was no sign of their return and the Dark One was growing wary of what hindering forces may have prevented the Saviour's return – up to and including Jefferson. He had long been aware of the unstable state of Jefferson's mind, from before he had approached to man to collect things for him from across the related worlds.

Rumpelstiltskin prided himself on being a good judge of character, and Jefferson had always sparked off his senses in such a way that he knew to be wary when dealing with such a volatile force. Since the kingdom's inhabitants had been transported to Storybrooke, he had kept one eye on the Hatter's house and was well aware of the man's system of telescopes that he watched the town with and they made him all the most wary of the man's deteriorating mental state. The fact that he had kidnapped Emma, Snow White and then made the Saviour use her unrealised magic to travel between lands was something that made Rumpelstiltskin twice as wary of the madman. Once Emma was safely back in Storybrooke she could break the curse and with a little manipulation, he Rumple knew that he could get her to retrieve the store of magic that lay within the dragon under the clock-tower. From there he would be able to release magic into this world and start his search for Bae on Ernest.

For these reasons, Rumple decided to use up the very last of his magic that lay outside of the dagger to level the playing field. He would activate his secret ace-in-the-hole in the form of the tracing spell he had placed upon the strand of hair he had plucked from August's clothing as the man had gone through the hat portal. The spell would not only allow him to see everything that the writer would see, but also allow one way communication so that Rumpelstiltskin could speak to him and discover what the man needed to do to get Emma back to Storybrooke. As the town was the centre of the curse, Emma would have to break the curse from within Storybrooke or else it would not work – she had to make it back or else Rumple would be just as trapped from those he loved as the rest of them were. He wanted to find Bae more than anything and could not do it while trapped here.

So focussing his chocolate coloured eyes upon the brown hair that lay in the glass vial before him, Rumpelstiltskin channelled the magic that lay within the follicle into his own mind and dropped it onto the crystal ball in front of him. The surface of the ball turned a swirling sangria colour before revealing an image of August being forced to his knees in a heavily forested area of what was clearly Wonderland, surrounded by dozens of armed soldiers as well as a clearly favoured knight.

What made the Dark One feel a pit open in his stomach was the woman who stood before the writer. Dressed in heavily embroidered burgundy skirts and holding a tight sneer upon her ruby red lips, the beautifully sharp features were achingly familiar. But what caught his attention were the familiar eyes – one an icy green and the other a deep chocolate brown. He heard the spitting image of Cora speak in an imperious tone. "And you, puppet shall be my bait to bring down the Saviour and her annoying little Hatter friend."

 **Hey! Apologies if this update was a bit meh - I've been suffering from writers block as of late. It's the sort where you know how you want to end and a bit of what goes in between but you're a bit sketchy on the details... you know? Anyways, the Red Queen will be left behind plot wise soon enough, so don't worry, but I felt the need to wrap up the bit I had started with her and some other characters first. I like to include Rumple bits as I'm a massive fan of the character and just can't help myself.**

 **Also smut will ensue most likely in the penultimate chapter. ;)**


	33. Chapter 33

**Break my mind**

Emma kept her eyes tightly squeezed shut the moment before she collided with the ground, not wanting to see the unforgiving surface that would end her life after all the bloody trouble she'd gone through as of late. Her last thought was that the Cheshire Mage managed to set himself on fire with his own blasted magic. However the final sickening landing did not come. She peeked one eye open to discover that she was floating a foot above the ground, she let out a shaky breath at the apparent accidental discovery of yet another undiscovered magical talent.

Somewhat unsure of how to let herself down onto the ground, she attempted to right herself by swinging her legs down towards the ground and moved her arms out to the side to balance herself. This tactic seemed to work, her magic apparently understanding her intentions instinctively as she found her feet back on the ground, turning to look back up at the way she had fallen.

Chesh was no longer visible at the top of the cliff and she guessed he'd slunk off like the crazy cat-man he was – what the hell had possessed him to push her off the cliff like that? Was he trying to kill her? Maybe she should have listened to August after all. What confused her most was why Chesh would push her off a cliff after apparently trying to help her and teach her magic, had it been an act to gain her trust? There were now far too many mad people in her life to keep proper track of, so she decided to push the thoughts to the back of her mind and focus on getting August back.

She began to walk through the trees, carefully avoiding the clusters of mushrooms as she went, her knee high leather boots crunching slightly as she moved as quietly as she could while still maintaining a quick pace. As she was unsure of where the Red Queen's guards were in respect to where she had fallen, Emma decided that caution would be the best tactic if she wanted to maintain the element of surprise. Though Chesh seemed to have thrown her under the metaphorical bus (and off a literal cliff) she came to the conclusion that his plan to fire up the fungi to incapacitate the guards was probably her best shot.

Unfortunately, she wasn't sure she'd be able to control the flames enough to prevent the whole forest from going up, and also was dubious of whether she could escape the effect of them herself. But she also didn't fancy facing down all of those men directly on her own, especially with her newly discovered magic being so unpredictable; while it seemed to instinctively help her, she couldn't be sure of what that could translate to. Emma was not one to shy away from a fight if need be, but she didn't want to kill anyone, and fire was not a pleasant way to go out for anyone – the mushroom plan would have to do.

She slowed her footsteps as she heard the sound of multiple people moving through the forest ahead of her, crouching closer to the ground in an effort to remain stealthy, Emma moved forward to get a better look. There were at least a dozen or more armed and masked guards, all carrying hauberks, two of them pushing along a bound and gagged August – his face was bruised and the was rope binding his wrists together behind his back. As much of an ass as August could be, she still felt a pang of concern at the sight of the abused writer – he had come here in an attempt to help her and was now suffering for it once more. At least she could now make her own attempt to rescue him this time.

Glancing at the treetops above her, Emma decided that getting up high would give her a better vantage point from which to burn the mushrooms that littered the ground around her. She gripped a long hanging branch, trying to ignore the odd, slightly sticky purple bark beneath her bare hand and used both arms to pull herself upwards. Climbing was one thing that she didn't have much experience in, at least climbing trees anyway, she had climbed a few drainpipes, ladders and fire escapes when chasing attempted bail escapees – but spending most of your life in child protective services or living in grotty city apartments didn't allow for many trips to the countryside.

Luckily the tree had plenty of evenly spaced branches that were just right to grab onto as she pulled herself higher, until Emma reached a branch that was high enough to give her a good vantage point but that still had enough foliage that could partially hide her from view. Looking down and to the right, Emma could see the group of soldiers still moving through the trees, just ahead of them a was a particularly large cluster of mushrooms that interspersed the stones of the path they walked along. August was being held towards the back of the group, so the sooner she struck, the better if she didn't want August to be caught in the mushrooms effects – though how far they would spread she had no idea.

There was nothing to be done for it now though as she focussed all of her anger, confusion and frustration into the flame she could feel inside her that was her magic. She coaxed it to move from her chest, down her arm and towards her palm – the white flame was bright and crackling as it appeared, thankfully not as strongly as it had done before. Making sure she was in control of the magical fire, she pulled her arm back and willed it to strike the cluster of multicoloured mushrooms just before the first few soldiers reached the fungi. The result was exactly what she had hoped it to be, as the mushrooms immediately caught and started to produce a thick white smoke that was tinged with pink veins, there were cries of alarm from the soldiers as they were quickly enveloped in the cloud of blinding smoke.

Emma quickly moved to climb back down the tree in order to reach August, but was shocked as she heard screams issuing from the midst of the smoke cloud. These were not the confused screams of men who were disconcerted by the sudden loss of vision; these were the terrified screams of men who were being tormented by their greatest fears. These were the cries of men caught in a waking nightmare. Emma shuddered as she heard the men continue to yell and heard crashes and thumps as the men thrashed about at seemingly invisible terrors.

Emma jumped the last few feet from the branch she was on and cursed as she hit the ground harder than expected; the ground was swathed in the smoke and had prevented her from noticing how far the jump actually was. She ignored the pain that shot up her right ankle as she moved towards where she had last seen August, guided by the flash of pale face she had glimpsed just as the smoke descended. It made it easier to track the writer through the fog as he was the only one with an exposed face.

"August!" Emma called, moving to cover her mouth and nose with her sleeve as her eyes watered slightly in the magical mushroom smoke. This wasn't going quite as planned – she hasn't expected the smoke to spread as quickly or as far as it had and now she was just as stuck in it as the guards were. Damn it!

Her vision was blurring further by the second and she rubbed at her eyes in an attempt to clear them, before realizing that the smoke around her was changing. It was twisting into the shapes of people and objects. There were three figures, two standing around a motionless third figure lying on a white hospital bed. She drew closer only to reel back in horror as she saw who was laid out in white upon the sheets.

It was Henry.

He was chalky pale, dark circles ringing his eyes and cold sweat soaking his clothes and the blanket underneath him, his small hands looking ridiculously frail as they rested on his unmoving chest. Henry was dead – her son was dead. It was her fault. She hadn't done what a Saviour was meant to do – she hadn't saved the most important person in her life. She had spent too long in Wonderland. She hadn't defeated Regina. She hadn't broken the curse. Henry was _gone._

Emma dropped to her knees before the bed in horror, sobs choking her throat as tears flooded her eyes; her whole body shook with unrepressed grief. "No, no, Henry, please no... I'm so sorry Henry... I didn't want this, I'm sorry, I wasn't good enough... I couldn't- I didn't... I'm so sorry... Henry."

She started violently as she felt a cold hand on her shoulder, looking up to see the hate filled, brown angry eyes of Regina glaring down at her. "You couldn't do it Saviour – you failed the one time it really mattered. Henry paid for your lack of belief in him." Her eyes burned so brightly with emotion that one seemed to change colour as she tightened her grip painfully on Emma's arm. "They died because of you. You will always fail."

"They?" Emma echoed, confused, before looking up to see a whole ward of beds, each holding a still, pale and obviously dead member of Storybrooke. She let out a horrified scream as she saw the bloodied, pale faces of Mary-Margaret, David, Granny, Ruby, Archie, August, and every other person she had met in the town. All dead.

Her tear-filled green eyes were inexplicably drawn to a bed at the far end of the ward, where the third figure stood above it, face filled with heart-wrenching grief. She approached the final bed cautiously, somehow knowing exactly who she would find within it. The sobbing figure was small, brown hair framing a pale, pretty face, tiny hands reaching out to stroke the cold cheek of the figure in the bed. Grace did not acknowledge Emma's presence and continued to grieve over the corpse of her dead father. Jefferson laid cold and unmoving, china blue eyes frozen in the everlasting agony of his final moments. Emma let out scream that was muffled by her own hand as she clamped it over her moth in an attempt to stifle the pain that overwhelmed her. "No, no, no..."

She turned away from the corpse as she heard him begin to call her name, ignoring the taunting imaginations of her own twisted subconscious, pressing her hands over her ears and squeezing her eyes shut tight.

"Emma." She curled up into herself on the ground, shaking uncontrollably.

"Emma!" She shook her head, curling into herself tighter in a vain attempt to escape the horror of the reality she was being tortured with.

"EMMA!"

Her eyes snapped open in shock as she felt rough hands shaking her, to her horror she was faced with a painfully familiar set of blue eyes. Emma cried out as the hands shook her again, pulling her out of the ward, away from the bodies of all the people she had failed, away from Henry's corpse, away from the sobbing Grace, the dead Jefferson and...into the arms of a very real Jefferson.

Emma gasped like she was breathing for the first time in years, barely registering the sea of trees and brightly coloured shrubberies around her; only focussing on the warm, breathing _alive_ Jefferson who was gripping onto her like his life depended on it. She returned the embrace ten-fold, breathing in the scent of leather, cinnamon _him._ She was shocked out of the embrace when she registered the metallic scent fresh blood and leant away to examine him with concern.

From leather clad head to toe, Jefferson was splattered with blood, fresh and dripping, smearing itself down him in waves. Emma barely managed to stifle another scream of shock as she looked down at herself to see that she was equally soaked now after hugging him so close. "Jefferson are you- what happened?"

She looked up into his eyes and saw the truth right there shining back at her in them.

One was china blue.

The other was swirling with cobalt darkness.

 **Reviews and feedback appreciated. Thank you as ever.**


	34. Chapter 34

**Better of two evils**

Jefferson awoke on the cold stone floor of Oaken's with a splitting headache, one that only worsened as he registered the argument taking place above him. Two deceptively cheery tones spouted streams of half-strung together suggestions and expletives that his shattered mind couldn't quite yet comprehend as he brought on hand to the back of his head where he found a sizeable lump, but fortunately no blood.

He remembered being in control right up until the moment his knees had hit the wooden bench of the sauna, the feeling of Emma sitting astride him had brought out the more carnal side of him and his defences had lowered just long enough for one brief moment which the Hatter had instantly taken a hold of. He mentally cursed and woozily got to his feet, the arguing stopped immediately as his awareness became obvious to Chesh and Oaken.

"What happened? Where's Emma?" Jefferson questioned, feeling a frown crease his forehead as the Hatter chose that moment to begin hammering upon the inside of his skull once again. He wasn't quite sure what had riled up his darker half quite so much this time but wasn't eager to release him to find out.

"She set off just a little while ago after your other friend." Oaken replied with a troubled tone tainting his usually cheery demeanour. Jefferson cursed once more and turned to Chesh in annoyance.

"And you didn't think to try to stop her? Or help her?" He snapped at the mage, drawing closer until he was standing in his personal space, using his superior height to an advantage. Chesh did not seem impressed however and clucked his tongue in a disapproving manner.

"I _did_ help; I was _very_ helpful; I got her to her friend _much_ quicker than she would have done otherwise." Chesh tilted his head to the side in that odd way of his again before adding. " _And_ I taught her several very useful skills about fire safety, ambushing, flying and most importantly of all – trust!" The way that Chesh spoke and had his head tilted to the side reminded Jefferson oddly enough of the way a dog might watch you after it's brought you a dead squirrel – as if looking for praise at his genius and thoughtfulness.

Jefferson stared at the other madman for a good five seconds before admitting a lost course of attempting to get any sense out of him and turned his questioning gaze to Oaken instead. The tall sweater clad man cleared his throat awkwardly and offered Jefferson a nervous grin, shrugging before pointing his thumb out of the door – a clear signal to leave. Looking around at the general destruction of the shop, Jefferson decided it would be probably be a good idea to leave before he caused any more trouble for the kindly trading post proprietor.

He moved towards the door only to find that he was being accompanied by Chesh once more, he glanced sideways at the other man once before deciding not to comment upon it – finding Emma and August was more important right now. Not that he really cared that much about what happened to the prior-puppet, but he knew that Emma would likely not leave Wonderland until he was found.

The moment he stepped outside the shop he saw exactly where Emma would be – the towering column of multicoloured smoke issuing from the Fungal Forest was a pretty clear sign. As he broke into a run back down the mountain path, he heard Chesh cluck his tongue once more in disapproval and mutter "Well maybe not fire _safety."_

They made quicker work of going down the mountain path than they had up due to the natural incline of the land and also due to the increased pace. Jefferson's lungs and limbs burned and ached as he pushed his body further and faster towards the forest fire, he felt Chesh close on his heels, though he didn't hear the other's footsteps or hear his breathing. He supposed it was due to the sound of his own thudding footsteps, heartbeat pounding in his ears and the increasing noise of crackling flames and screaming.

Jefferson pulled his cravat from around his neck and tied it across his nose and mouth in a half-hearted attempt to prevent himself from breathing in what he knew to be hallucinogenic fumes that were originating from the surrounding fungi. He recognised the colour and smell of the mushrooms from his previous forced exposures to their effects at the hands of Cora, the deceptively sweet stench and the bright colours pervading the air.

He glanced back at Chesh for a moment but then came to the conclusion that he would be protected a bit by his mask, or else didn't care about the effects of the smoke. As Jefferson made his way further into the centre of the chaos, he was distracted by the numerous shapes moving around him in the smoke – most likely the hallucinating soldiers, he squinted as best he could to try to spot Emma's distinctive blonde hair through the smoke but struggled to see anything definite.

Despite his best efforts, the longer Jefferson spent in the smoke, the more he could feel its effects, the images slowing seeping into his head; pulling at the corners of his sanity. It was all he could do to try to push it away and fight off the Hatter at the same time. He pushed through the smoke with watering eyes, trying to navigate his way through the trees, flames and stumbling soldiers; not even sure if Chesh was still with him or not.

Painfully familiar images began seeping through his mental defences – he could see a bloody Grace following him through the trees along beside him, her pretty face bruised and exposed throat marred by a large bloody slash that barely left her head attached to her shoulders. Tears stung Jefferson's eyes as he pushed forward, subconsciously he knew that what he was seeing wasn't real and was just was a product of the mushrooms, but the sight still tore at his heart like knives. It was the same sort of vision that was incurred any time he dared to picture the Hatter meeting Grace.

The Hatter was fighting, ripping, tearing, _shredding_ through his mental defences as if they weren't even there anymore; his realities were blurring, spinning and warping way out of his control. He was well and truly down the rabbit hole now. But for the first time, he could still feel everything and he could still _understand_ what the Hatter was thinking and that was more terrifying than anything else.

Jefferson could _feel_ the savage bloodlust that the Hatter felt as he sought out the shadows in the smoke, he could experience the pleasure that the Hatter divulged from ripping a glaive from one of the Red Queen's soldiers and using it to tear open a bloody hole in the man's chest. It was exhilarating and horrifying at the same time as he moved through the smoke and trees like a ghost, tearing apart each man he encountered with primal glee. They moved and breathed in a brutal unison for the first time. Both the Hatter and Jefferson grinned as the blood splattered across their face, as the entrails squelched beneath their boots. The men were too lost in their own worst nightmares to witness or defend themselves from the all too real one that came at them from the colourful smoke.

The Hatter and Jefferson performed a bloody dance about the trees until there were no black and red clad men left alive, but the bloodlust was still not sated; it was still not enough. The Hatter urged him to move onwards, to seek out more blood, to seek out more violence and more excitement.

 _There's more fun to be had here._

They moved deeper into the smoke.

 _There, up ahead._

There was another familiar figure standing in the smoke, they could hear the heart wrenching sobs of a woman.

 _Go to her, faster._

They reached the silhouette without her seeming to realize their presence, likely stuck in her own world of misery and despair. But there was another figure - another woman close by, next to the nearest tree. Watching on in smug satisfaction with a grin frozen on her crimson lips as the first sobbed full body, grief filled sobs. Both Jefferson and the Hatter approached the sobbing woman as one, recalling the name through the haze of smoke filling their head as they saw her brilliant blonde hair and forest green eyes. "Emma."

She began to sob harder, staring down at a spot to the side of him at about waist height and pulling away as her eyes widened in horror, muttering almost unconsciously "Dead, my fault, dead."

Jefferson and the Hatter both twitched as if shocking by the rasping, dead tone in Emma's voice. "Emma!"

As one, the two dropped the glaive and grabbed her by the arms, attempting to shake her, calling her name again, louder this time. They felt concern filling them at the despair and utter desolation filling her beautiful eyes. "EMMA!"

Jefferson pulled forward enough to embrace Emma in a tight embrace, feeling instant relief as she relaxed in their arms, seeming to go weak as she realized that he was real. "Jefferson." The Hatter registered a twinge of irritation at the speaking of only half of who they were, but Jefferson felt only cool, clear relief flowing though him – which oddly enough seemed to infect the other as well.

Emma then pulled back to examine him, finally seeming to register the fact that he was covered in the innards of over two dozen soldiers, as now was she. The Hatter wanted to grin as he saw the blood and gore staining her dress, liking the way that the colour accented her natural pallor inherited from her mother and the shining blonde hair tinted with red. Jefferson could appreciate it as well, but was distracted by the way Emma's eyes widened in horror as she looked at him, her lips moving in words he couldn't make out as the Hatter urged him to take her in their arms once again.

They took a step forward as one to claim her once again, but she took a counter step backward with a barely stifled scream as she noticed the previously ignored figure of the Red Queen still stood nearby. The Hatter turned to face the figure also; eager to exact some much deserved revenge upon her while she was under the influence of the smoke and hopefully as defenceless as her men had been. But as he picked up the dropped glaive once more, he saw what he had before missed. The tree branch protruding from her heart was painfully clear from this distance; the blood staining her torso had previously gone unnoticed due to the crimson material of her dress.

The Red Queen was dead.

Impaled through the heart.

Soaked through with blood red.

"Well I think that turned out quite nicely don't you?"

 **Uh hi guys! How long's it been? I'm really sorry, but I've been distracted by a potent combination of a new puppy, a new book I'm working on, coming home and planning for my semester abroad! Not a good enough excuse? Well I'll give you all virtual non-poisoned apples? Enjoy!**


	35. Chapter 35

**Unfinished Business**

All three individuals turned quickly away from the Red Queen's bloody corpse to face the newcomer through the finally diminishing smoke. Emma rolled her eyes as she saw that it was once again Chesh making another dramatic entrance as only a mage could, while the Hatter and Jefferson were torn between irritation and bemusement. Chesh stood with his mask tilted in that odd way of his, observing them while bouncing on his toes slightly as if nervously excited, radiating an apparent unbridled glee even without being able to see the man's face.

"I'm guessing that you had some _hand_ in this Chesh?" Emma asked in a dry, weary tone, still wiping the trails of tears from her pale face while her forest green eyes flickered between the dead queen, Jefferson/The Hatter and Chesh in clear unease. She was currently surrounded by people who were notoriously volatile and she had been attacked by both men in the short time she had known them, but at the same time she was also felt far too drained both emotionally and physically to feel too much fear or anticipation.

"Oh no silly Saviour! Although I would have certainly been the one to do so had I found her first." Chesh took a few bouncing steps forward, like a child delighted at knowing a big secret that the others did not. Emma cocked and eyebrow, sighing and fixing the mage with an impatient and slightly sceptical look. He held up his now un-gloved hands in mock innocence, odd curved claws flexing slightly in a seemingly unconscious manner.

Shaking her head and putting the matter to the side in her mind for now, Emma turned to fully face her next biggest problem. Despite the now nearly clear air around them, the effects of the noxious fumes seemed to still be lingering on Jefferson as his posture and eyes were conflicting even as he stood still across from her. His left side was tense and his eye was the usual china blue while the other side of the man was decidedly darker in every sense of the word, though the posture was a picture of relaxed confidence. She was not sure how to interpret this odd combination of the two halves of the man she had grown to care for so inordinately – unsure of how his would react to her or how long this might last.

"Um... Jefferson...Are you...alright?" Emma ventured, taking a step or two closer to him; he smiled at her and also took a step forward. However there was definitely something off about the smile, half of his face seemed to be forcing it, but she couldn't quite tell which.

"Of course my dear, the crimson bitch is dead and we are finally free to escape this wretched place." He tilted his head and looked around at the carnage that the clearing smoke had revealed, bodies strewn around, limbs, entrails and blood soaking the charred forest floor.

Chesh let out an odd little sound that was halfway between a snicker and a squeak and muttered "Uh oh" before vanishing in a puff of purple smoke. His clear unease around Jefferson resurfacing with the obviously unstable state he was now in – bloody scaredy cat. Emma turned from where the mage had been focus her full attention upon Jefferson/the Hatter.

"Uh actually, we still haven't found August yet so-" Emma was cut off as Jefferson/the Hatter leapt forwards and pressed urgent lips to hers in a demanding fashion that shocked her into stillness for a moment or two before she tried to step back. Hands gripped her shoulders, preventing her from retreating, but the lips left hers. The side she thought to be Jefferson looked scared and concerned and he shook his head at her, eye wide with apparent desperation.

"We need to get out of here as soon as we can Emma, just please don't mention-" Jefferson's pleading tone was cut off as the harsher, more mocking tone of the Hatter overrode him and the grip on Emma's shoulders became tighter.

 _"All this talk of your useless puppet boy is awfully tiresome, my dear, I do wish you would show some self-preservation and instead devote your attentions to the man you claim to be so infatuated."_ The Hatter side of his face twisted upwards into a manic leer and he stroked a hand down the side of her face in a parody of a caress. _"Or at least the body he shares."_

"I _love_ Jefferson and I'm not going to let you ruin either of us." Emma spoke fiercely, staring into both of their eyes, trying to make sure that Jefferson knew she wasn't going to abandon and that she wasn't going to fall to the Hatter's sadistic whims. She was certainly not a woman who usually was so blatant with her emotions – a behaviour bred from long years of self-induced isolation – but with Jefferson and the Hatter she found herself being far more honest and open with herself that she had been before.

 _"Well maybe you should stop and take a look at who you fell in love with."_ The Hatter leant forward until his lips were by her ear before he spoke, his tone quiet and venomous. He then leant back away from her, both eyes shining with something that could only be described as hopeful honesty before both tones overlapped and he spoke. "Because we come as a package deal my dear, to love one is to accept the other as well." 

She knew what he said was true. As much as she had initially been drawn to the sweet, broken nature of Jefferson, she had been equally intrigued and seduced by the passionate and unpredictable Hatter. To accept one half of his splintered psyche meant that she would have to accept the other in order to truly care for the man as a whole. "You're right."

Emma then pressed her lips against his in what could only be described as a surrender. It wasn't the same as the kisses she had shared with either Jefferson or the assault she had received from the Hatter. This was sweet and soft but at the same time it was fiery and dangerous. The two halves of the man coming together in the moment to meet in a shared desire; meeting Emma's acceptance with open eagerness. Not only did both individuals rejoice at the union of lips and souls, but the very air around them seemed to shimmer and heat up in a way that had nothing to do with the dying flames. They broke apart slightly to see a bright wave of white light sweep out from Emma, spreading out across the forest - as far as the eye could see and then further.

A whoop of delighted laughter left Jefferson and the Hatter at the same moment and he grabbed Emma by the shoulders, pulling her close and spinning her around in such a shocking display of affection and excitement that she let out a cry of alarm before he placed her back down on the ground, holding her at arm's length. "You did it! I didn't think it was really possible... not really... not with us... but you did it!"

Emma swayed as exhaustion swooped over her but she stood standing, looking up into his face with confusion clearly etched across her features. "What the hell was that?"

Jefferson smiled at her in such a warm way that she felt her heart soften just looking at the joy he was apparently now experiencing because of whatever just happened.

"You broke the curse Emma."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

And across Storybrooke broke a wave of white light that lightened the burden of all who lived there, every man, women and child stopped in sudden shock. Memories flooding back to them as the curse was finally lifted. Names were called as individuals sought out their forgotten loved ones. The cries permeating the air with confused and hopeful tones all through the town.

"Snow!"

"Pinocchio?"

"Charming!"

"Grams!"

"Gerhardt?"

"Ruby!"

"Papa?"

 **Sorry for slow updates again but life got in the way again! This chapter isn't the last and I'm** **definitely** **considering the sequel. There will on August and Rumple before the end of this one though. There will be some cute fluffy stuff with Snow, Charming, Jefferson, Grace, Henry and Emma. Thank you to my loyal reviewers! And to ShadowTeir feel better soon - I've had 6 teeth out in one go before so I feel your pain!**


	36. Chapter 36

**Everyone loves a shortcut**

Emma looked blankly at Jefferson for a full thirty seconds before she shrugged and began walking back through the trees. She was far too emotionally, physically and mentally drained to muster up what would probably be considered as an appropriate reaction. Due to the hectic, tragic and mind-smashing events of however long they had been in Wonderland (and due to some inconsistent and thoughtless writing) she realised that she hadn't slept or ate in days. All she wanted to do was go back to Storybrooke, find Henry and fold him into a hug, while she was aware of her utterly ridiculous affection for Jefferson and the Hatter; she wasn't sure how to handle the situation at the moment. All she needed was her son, a good meal and a few days worth of sleep.

"Emma!" She felt his hand on her shoulder but carried on walking, just focussing on putting one foot in front of the other; she had to make it to the 'Pool of Tears' or whatever Chesh had called it so she could get home. Odd that being away from somewhere will make you realise that you think of it as being 'home'. Emma had never really considered anywhere but her Yellow Bug as being home before – made life easier that way. Made leaving easier.

"Did you hear what I said? You broke the curse." Jefferson was now jogging backwards along slightly in front of her, both shades of blue looking on in confusion, though the lighter held more concern. She kept on walking.

"This means you can get your family back Emma – Snow white and Charming are your parents – Mary-Margaret and David." Jefferson spoke almost imploringly; almost as if he was begging her to be as happy as he was that they could return to the realm of fairytales.

"What's wrong Emma?" He asked, the Hatter's presence receding slightly as he seemed to realise that Jefferson was better equipped to deal with the situation than he was. Emma slowed her pace slightly, but didn't stop, her gaze slipping up reluctantly to meet his split one.

"I'm just used to disappointment when it comes to this sort of thing – thinking that I've found love, or happiness or anything that would give me a life. I want to believe; I _really_ do Jefferson. It's just difficult to shake a lifetime of bad experiences in the face of a magical fairytale world where everything is suddenly alright after everything that has happened." Jefferson had stopped his backwards walk by this point and she had stopped too, just staring into each other's eyes, willing the other to understand.

"It's hard to believe that all of a sudden I can go back to a place I think of as being home, with a man that I love to be with a long-lost family who will miraculously know and love me." Emma let out a huff of breath and a half-smile crossed her lips. "I also doesn't help that I haven't slept or eaten properly in a stupidly long time."

Jefferson stepped forward and took her hand in his in the comforting way that she had become calmed by before and he spoke with a soft voice. "Emma, no one knows what struggling to find acceptance and love is like more than 'fairy-tale' characters. If you ever read that book of Henry's you'd discover that none of us got our 'happily-ever-after's easily. Your parents went through a lot to be together and to ensure that one day you could get back to them. I suffered for years away from my daughter, trapped in my own madness. And at the risk of sounding like your mother - you won't ever find your happiness unless you are willing to believe it can happen."

"I wouldn't know even if you _did_ sound like my mother would I?" Emma grumbled slightly, but Jefferson's words rang true in her head nonetheless. Even if this wasn't to be her 'happily-ever-after' it didn't mean that she couldn't be happy – life is like that, it's meant to be a blend of the good, the bad and everything in between. Just look at her relationship with the man in front of her. She offered him a weak smile, running a thumb over his hand. This could be a happy beginning to a new chapter of her life as long as they got home... she could start anew.

The thought of chapters sparked something in her mind once more that she was slightly ashamed to have forgotten. "Damn it, August!"

"Oh for the love of-" Jefferson muttered in irritation, the Hatter flickering brighter in his gaze for a moment.

"I came back here solely for the purpose of getting him back and we forgot him...again." Emma trailed off, half-heartedly looking around the surrounding charred remains of tree stumps and corpses. "Also, where the hell did Chesh disappear to?"

"I'm guessing that you probably would be adverse to just leaving him here my dear?" The Hatter asked with a questioning sardonic dark eyebrow raised at her. She merely glared at him in a withering manner that made him sigh irritably.

"That would be a no I suppose."

Both of them retraced their steps back to the main area where the fire had affected to begin their search for the much abused previous-puppet calling his name as they made their way around the remains of the forest and soldiers.

"He probably got caught in the smoke too so anything could have happened." Emma said dejectedly and then glanced back at the Hatter in trepid query. "You didn't kill him with the other soldiers did you?"

"I don't believe so, but it was rather difficult to tell in the haze and smoke to be rather honest." The Hatter replied flippantly, inspecting his blood caked fingernails briefly.

"Well that's reassuring." Emma muttered before spotting movement off to the trees to their right. Something was moving quickly towards them through the vestiges of the Fungal Forest, but all she could make out was a black and silver blur before the figure struck right into Jefferson, knocking him to the ashy ground. There was a loud cry of pain a suddenly the ash around them was soaked with crimson.

It took Emma several seconds to register that one of the Red Queen's guards had just rushed Jefferson. And that his right hand was now missing two fingers.

The man who had attacked him was now standing above Jefferson's huddled form as he cradled his injured hand to his chest in shock. Emma threw her hand up to send the guard flying just at the same moment that Chesh appeared behind him, conjuring fire into one hand.

The guard was thrown backwards into a nearby tree stump and almost as if to add insult to injury, Chesh half-heartedly threw fire to land on the stump behind him where it sputtered out. Emma took a moment to throw Chesh a confused look before turning back to tend to Jefferson.

He was curled on his side on the forest floor, face white as chalk and scrunched tight in agony, eyes flickering between dark and light in a mesmerising dance of shades. Emma crouched down by him and reached out to take his injured hand gently in her own, wincing in sympathy as she saw the severed digits up close. His pinkie finger and ring finger had been cleanly separated in one blow of the Crimson guard's sword - blood leaking from the wounds at a worrying rate.

"Oh god Jefferson, I'm so sorry, I'll get you help..." Emma whispered, her voice cracking as tears threatened to overwhelm her for the hundredth time is as many days.

"T-this is n-nothing... I'll be f-fine..." Jefferson replied with a weak smile, shifting slightly to lean against a nearby stump with a groan of pain.

"The boy is right you know." She heard Chesh's voice over her shoulder as he came to stand beside them; Emma sent him a glare that could have melted steel. "What? It could have been much worse – he could have lost the whole arm after all."

Emma ignored the comment and instead forced herself to ask him for what needed to be done. "Can you heal him? Like you did me?"

"I can't put the fingers back on." Chesh told her firmly, but relented slightly at the look that crossed her face. "Buuut I suppose that I could stop the bleeding and prevent infection."

"Do it." Emma ordered, holding tightly onto Jefferson's uninjured hand as he struggled with unconsciousness.

"Alrighty then – give me a second." Chesh reached forward and placed a hand on Emma's arm and then one on Jefferson's. There was a moment of utter silence before a swirl of violet smoke engulfed the three of them and then all Emma saw was purple and darkness.


	37. Chapter 37

**A Happy Beginning**

Jefferson clutched to the remnants of his right hand in much the same way he clutched onto the fragile hold he held on the Hatter as they both experienced the agony of severed fingers and the confusion that ensued. The Hatter was calling for the blood of his attacker, but as they were now being magically transported elsewhere, Jefferson feared that should the Hatter gain the upper hand in their strained equilibrium, that he would instead lash out at whoever was unfortunate enough to be nearby. Namely Emma. It also didn't strike either sides of the man as a good idea to kill the man who was currently controlling the magic whirlwind they were all held in.

He struck the ground hard as both Emma and Chesh lost their grip on him once they stopped moving, he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as the agony in his hand flared at the harsh landing. Once he felt he could open them and would actually be able to see he did so, taking in the sterile white room around them and the empty white beds with slight confusion. It was a hospital. Emma pulled Jefferson up to sit on one of the beds, supporting most of his weight as she did so; concern and confusion clearly etched in her beautiful, harsh features.

"Where are we Chesh?" Emma asked with a tight note in her voice.

"I would have thought it was obvious Saviour – we're in a _hospital_." Chesh replied with a slow drawl that implied great impatience at her inane questioning of the obvious.

"You mean we're back in Storybrooke? You took us here? Why the _hell_ didn't you do it sooner?" Emma's voice rose in anger as she spoke, throwing daggers at Chesh with her sparkling green eyes. The lying feline could have saved them _a lot_ of trouble and severed limbs if he had just done this earlier; Jefferson had to struggle twice as hard in order to restrain both the Hatter's and his own anger.

"I couldn't do so until you'd fulfilled your purpose as a Saviour." Chesh shrugged and wisely took a step or two backwards, definitely a good mood judging by the thunderous expression on Emma's face. "And besides – why should _I_ solve all of your problems for you?" The last part came out as a grumble before he snapped his fingers as if remembering something, then promptly disappeared in a puff of purple smoke once more.

Jefferson turned his hazy gaze to the doorway as he heard an intake of breath - just across from them, looking utterly bewildered was Dr Victor Frankenstein dressed in a hospital coat and scrubs. "What the hell?" he asked in a bemused half murmur.

"Whale! I never thought I'd be pleased to see you again – you've got to help him." Emma ushered the disorientated looking doctor over to the bed, which he did, quickly taking in the sight of Jefferson's injured hand and the much abused state of both of them.

"I'm dubious of asking what the hell is going on right now Sherriff Swan, but I can see that your Hat jumping friend is in enough of a sticky situation to warrant a "treat-first-ask-questions-later" situation." The Doctor moved over to the bed, slipping on latex gloves as he did, reaching out a hand to take Jefferson's injured one. The Hatter fixed him with a suspicious glare and spoke in a mocking yet still steely tone.

"I'd appreciate having no one _else_ attempting to remove any other of my body parts today if at all possible _Doctor_."

"Wouldn't dream of it old friend." Frankenstein replied with a brittle smile that didn't quite reach his blue eyes. Jefferson held out his shaking, injured hand and the doctor began to examine it before his gaze flickered back up to Jefferson's. "As much as I loathe to admit it... you do know that I'm probably not the person you should be speaking to if you want these fingers back again right?

"Had enough dealings with magic and Rumpelstiltskin to last a few lifetimes thanks." Jefferson stated firmly as the Doctor began gathering medical supplies in order to stitch and clean the wounds. The blonde man raised an eyebrow at him and then nodded as if to himself, most likely conceding that Jefferson had a very valid point.

Emma looked slightly confused by the whole exchange between the two men, but she didn't comment, only tightened her grip around Jefferson's good hand in an attempt to comfort both herself and him. Jefferson gritted his teeth as the doctor asked him to remove his coat and shirt, trying to ignore the flares of pain that shot through his injured hand as he manoeuvred them off, dropping Emma's hand as he did so.

Frankenstein slipped a tourniquet over his and up his arm with practised hands, tightening it just above the elbow until Jefferson felt the feeling in his injured appendage had lessened. A needle was then pressed into his vein, pumping a clear solution into his body that made him feel light headed and numb; likely anaesthetic. Jefferson's already heavy head fell back against the starched white pillow. He turned his head towards Emma, knowing that in his state he would likely soon pass out; he shot her a tired smirk.

"Please don't let him steal my organs while I'm out would you?" Emma raised her eyebrows at him again and shot a glance at Frankenstein who winked at her teasingly before looking back down to the IV he was setting up.

"I wouldn't trust you alone with him even if you hadn't said that." Frankenstein looked affronted at the mild glare Emma sent his way and spoke in a tone of mock innocence. Jefferson snorted with laughter as he got the feeling that Emma might be misreading the vibes flowing between the two men.

"You have no need to worry about anything like that sweetheart – I like my lovers how I like my alcohol – pale, blonde and liable to cause a fight." Emma's eyebrows raised impressive heights and her scepticism and confusion were evident, but somehow Jefferson was having far too much trouble keeping his eyes open now to be too bothered. Fuzziness took over his mind and he let the drugs, pain and exhaustion overwhelm his system.

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Emma felt somewhat relieved when Jefferson's eyes finally slipped closed. She was glad he could get some much needed rest and could escape the pain that flowed both trough his body and mind, if only for a little while. But at the same time she was a bit wary of being left alone with whoever Dr Whale was now that he was his fairytale self; especially seeing as how he seemed to be staring unashamedly at where her corset pushed her breasts up to the forefront. And how Jefferson was concerned that the man might try to hurt him and steal his limbs... oh wait.

"For god's sake, you're Victor Frankenstein aren't you?" Emma asked with a hand pressing at her temple to attempt to repress the re-emerging headache she felt coming on.

"At your service." He said in a decidedly up front manner, blue eyes flicking up and down as he sidled a bit closer. "I trust you know me by reputation?"

"Oh yes." Emma spoke, leaning her head a bit closer conspiratorially. "I've heard so much about your mental experiments and _womanising_ from your ex assistant."

Whale lost the confident air quick and leant back from her, his eyes flicking to the ground before refocusing himself back to his work of cleaning Jefferson's mutilated hand with surgical spirit. "Ah... good to know Igor is still alive – haven't seen him in quite some time."

"He's as well as can be expected after working for a man who steals dead bodies and attempts to reanimate the dead." Emma replied in a clipped tone, refusing to mention the other part that Igor had spoken of – that Victor had been responsible for the death of both his brother and father. She didn't feel the need to bring it up and reopen old wounds... after all... everyone makes mistakes.

"Well I wasn't ever successful if that makes a difference." Frankenstein muttered, angrily dabbing at the wound with the now dry cloth with blind repetitiveness. Emma caught his hand briefly in a loose grip which pulled his gaze up to hers.

"From what I hear, you were just trying to do the right thing for your family and made a few mistakes along the way that ended worse than you could have expected." Emma spoke in a calm voice, feeling that what she was telling him needed to be said – influenced by something deep inside her that needed people to know the truth.

"I... uh thanks um...Emma." Frankenstein replied in a clearly taken aback manner, his eyes flitted back down to Jefferson for a moment before a slight smile pulled at the corners of his thin lips. "If you wanted to go and find your family, I promise that I will try to refrain from removing any limbs or organs from your boyfriend until you get back."

Emma eyed him suspiciously for a few seconds before her natural instincts told her that she could trust him on this one and that he was honestly just trying to make a nice gesture – however out of character that might be for Whale, she wasn't quite sure about Victor Frankenstein. "I'll be back soon."

Whale nodded and Emma pushed herself up from the edge of the bed and left to the room, walking down the halls and out into the street outside. She walked quickly down the adjoining streets towards the town centre, and was promptly nearly bowled over by two running figures who smothered her in a litany of hugs and tear filled cries of "Emma!"


	38. Chapter 38

**The one thing you can say about mankind is that there's nothing kind about man**

Being swarmed by two people who look the same age as you but you know are actually your parents is an understandably strange feeling. Mary-Margaret... or Snow White and 'Prince' David both embraced Emma as though she were a life raft in troubled waters and she could feel tears on her... mother's face rubbing against her cheek. It was a bizarre feeling to suddenly connect the idea that she had family to a real, physical embodiment of that same thing. She returned the hug with a tentative squeeze just for a few moments before Mary-Margaret pulled her back to hold her at arm's length and David released her entirely, standing there with an odd half-smile on his face.

"Emma!" Mary-Margaret cried again, tears streaming down her face, but her smile was so bright Emma couldn't help but return it weakly. That was until Mary-Margaret lightly slapped her on top of the head and her ace turned to one of concerned parental fury, "Emma Swan where _have_ you been?"

"Ow! Um what the hell Mare!" Emma yelped indignantly at the sudden change of mood. "I thought Snow White was meant to be all cuddly and nice?"

David snorted at that and Mary-Margaret sent him a death stare that nearly rivalled that of Regina. "I'm glad you know who we are already, this would've been an awkward conversation otherwise. And that you found us."

"Well you can thank Jefferson for that." Emma mumbled, thoughts flickering back to her companion and his currently fingerless state. Both of her parents looked confused and Emma realized that David had probably never actually met or heard of Jefferson, and that Mary-Margaret likely didn't know him other than as the madman who kidnapped both of them. Man... This would take a lot of explanations that she was far too tired to make.

"Well as much as I would like to stand here and ask you about a million questions, I need to go and find Henry." Emma stated briskly, carefully skating over the questions that she also knew her parents were dying to ask her in return judging by their faces.

"I saw him go visit Rumpelstiltskin again earlier today, he's been visiting him a lot since you disappeared." David's voice was laced with worry and his brow furrowed in further consternation. Emma understood his concern, from what she had heard about Rumpelstiltskin and from what she had seen or Mr Gold; she wouldn't trust the man with her son. Turning right back around, Emma strode hurriedly down the street, tattered dress flowing slightly behind her in the Maine wind, her forest green eyes fixated on the door of Mr Gold's shop.

She was aware of Mary-Margaret and David following close behind her as she slammed open the door, setting the little golden swan-shaped bell tinkling. She quickly saw Henry standing over by the counter with Mr Gold, a pretty young woman with long brown hair and large blue eyes dressed in a white gown and woollen coat, and finally, Henry. They arrived just in time to see the woman throw her arms around Gold's neck and begin to sob into his shoulder, gripping him tightly. Deciding not to question whatever the hell she was witnessing there, she focused solely on her son. Henry turned as Emma strode forward, his face lighting up like Christmas and he enveloped her in a huge hug, shouting her name in joy; it was odd to meet such a warm welcome more than once.

"Hey there kid." Emma said, burying her face into his hair and hugging him tightly to her, so glad to see him again that she couldn't even find the effort to wonder who the woman was and why she was hugging Gold, or why Henry was here in the first place. She just needed Henry to know one important thing first. "I'm so sorry I didn't believe you before Henry. You were right all along."

"I know I was." He said glibly, pulling back to look up at her with those big Neal-brown eyes of his, she felt tears sting her eyes once more. "I knew you would figure it out eventually. But where did you go? Was it the Enchanted Forest? Was it amazing? Were there dragons? Did you see the palace? How did you get back to Storybrooke? What-"

Emma cut Henry off before he could fire yet another question at her already overwhelmed system. "Whoa there Henry! One thing at a time! I promise I will tell you all everything, but right now I could _really_ use something to eat... and a couple of days of sleep come to think of it."

Mary-Margaret smiled kindly at her, squeezing her arm gently and guiding her towards the door; shooting a glance back at Gold and his lady-friend, Emma realized that they were probably intruding on something private by the looks of it. She put her arm around Henry's shoulders and her parents joined hands on her other side as they left the shop. "If Granny's is open I think we could all do with some cinnamon buns and hot chocolate."

Emma smiled at Mary-Margaret tiredly and quickened her pace at the thought of the warm, oozing, sticky sweet treats; it seemed to have the same effect on Henry as well as his step turned to more of what could be described as a trot. She heard David laugh quietly and felt a smile spread across her face even as the tears continued to flow silently down her cheeks. She had a family. She was home. And Jefferson was alive.

Even if he was injured and still mentally unstable, she would be with him every step of the rest of the way if she had any say about it. Things were looking up for Emma for the first time in over a decade. She felt impossibly light, as if a weight had dropped from her that had been lingering so long that it had become a part of her. She felt both hollow and newly filled at the same time in an odd, euphoric kind of way. While Emma's body may have been exhausted, starved, traumatised and sore, her soul felt strangely better. Less numb.

 **This is not the last chapter as I am ending on a round 40 chapter fic, but it is the penultimate chapter that doesn't contain smut. CHAPTER 40 is going to be the long awaited MadSwan sex scene so be warned – it is not for the faint of heart.**


	39. Chapter 39

**What happens when you stop running**

After going through the utter madness of meeting half the fairy-tale inhabitants of the recently awakened Storybrooke, Emma's already numb mind felt like it was overloading. She had scarfed down four cinnamon rolls and two hot chocolates, while all the while being barraged with questions from the curious and confused locals who were filing through Granny's. Everyone greeted her mother and father with excitement, relief and hugs, and then turned to Emma to ask her why they weren't back in their home now that the curse had broken.

Emma had no answers for any of them, and was relieved when Mary-Margaret took on an unnervingly maternal role by verbally fending them off with the passion that only a mother could muster. David took on a surprisingly dominant role as he made a speech to the gathered Storybrookers that seemed to placate them, at least for now – promising answers later on once Emma had gotten some rest.

It was darkening outside before Emma decided that she couldn't stay away from Jefferson any longer, even with the exhaustion and curiosity she felt, she knew she should be with him when he woke. They had a lot to sort out between them after all. Emma stood from the booth, setting her empty mug down and turned an apologetic look to Henry, David and Mary-Margaret. "I need to get back to the hospital."

"Are you feeling okay mom?" Henry asked, looking up at her with wide, concerned eyes, she smiled tightly at him.

"I'm fine Henry, nothing that a few hours sleep won't fix. I just want to see that Dr Frankenstein hasn't harvested the Mad Hatter's organs while I've been gone."

Henry's face lit up at the mention of the newly awaked fairy-tale characters and he stood next to her, tugging on her sleeve slightly in a hopeful manner. She smiled wider, but pre-empted his question before he could ask to go with her.

"Sorry kid, but this is something I need to do alone." At the disappointed look on his face, Emma quickly added. "But you can come and meet him another time – I promise."

Henry looked slightly put out, but seemed to understand as he sat back down and Mary-Margaret reached over to squeeze his hand gently. "Come on Henry – me, you and Charming can go back to my apartment and we can tell you all about the Enchanted Forest if you like?"

Emma flashed Mary-Margaret a grateful smile as Henry bounced back up out of his seat and he followed his grandparents out of the door, Emma headed in the opposite direction to them down the street back towards the hospital.

Feeling distinctly uncomfortable and out of place in the tattered, blood stained dress she was still wearing, Emma hastened her steps as she moved through the streets and through the various corridors of the hospital up to the room that she had left Jefferson in. To her relief, the sleeping Hatter was still there and asleep by the looks of things, his pale face drawn, gaunt and peaceful in his slumber. She approached the bed and gently pulled the covers over him, he barely shifted, but her eyes were drawn to the now bandaged stump of where his fingers had been.

Emma sat on the edge of the bed, taking his uninjured hand in hers, stroking her thumb along his thumb in the same comforting way she had become accustomed to him doing for her. It was strange that how a matter of a week could change everything in her life so profoundly. She started and looked up at the sound of what seemed to be a rumbling purring sound coming from across the room; curled up like a cat at the foot of the corner bed on a pair of slumbering legs was Chesh. His mask was still firmly in place, but he had taken off his robes to reveal a purple tailored pinstripe suit with a bright green tie, his clawed hands tucked up by his mask. Emma smiled slightly at the sight, her eyes wondering up in a weary kind of relief as she realized that the legs he was curled up upon were August's. He looked tired, a bit bruised and smoky and was soundly asleep, but otherwise seemed okay; she supposed that Chesh had left earlier to retrieve the writer back from Wonderland.

How she was ever going to explain any of this to her newfound family, she had no idea, but as she sat there, listening to the slow repetitive sound of Jefferson's breathing and the purring in the corner, she found that she didn't quite care that much. Her eyelids and head felt very heavy all of a sudden as the exhaustion swept over her once more, it was odd being able to fall asleep so easily, as she usually suffered from insomnia, but the events of the past week finally caught up with her as she found her head falling softly to lie on Jefferson's chest.

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When Jefferson awoke it was to the sensation of another body shifting on top of his, it was a bit of a surprise as he didn't really remember falling asleep, he peeled open his eyes and relaxed slightly as he saw that it was Emma he was sharing a bed with. She was sleeping fitfully, twitching a bit every now and then, curled up against his chest with her hand wrapped around his un-bandaged one. The pain was numbed by the drugs that had been pumped into his system, but the empty feeling he was experiencing on his hand and also in his mind was disconcerting. The Hatter was still in his mind, but the drugs seemed to affect him in a different way than Jefferson would ever have expected; his voice was muffled and his influence was more tenuous than it had been ever before. It was an exhilarating sensation to have the Hatter's presence subdued, but not dormant, it was less... tense, he got the feeling that the Hatter would stay down as long as the drugs were still in his system.

The sky outside the window was the orange leaking sun of early morning, though he couldn't be sure of how long he had been asleep – it could have been hours or days. A bit of colour had returned to Emma's pale face, which was a relief, it looked like she had eaten and slept a bit which was a relief, but his own stomach growled in hunger. The feeling was only worsened by the oddly out of place smell of fresh coffee and cinnamon floating in the air of the hospital room. His gaze was drawn over to the door as several sets of footsteps entered the room, Snow White, Prince David and Frankenstein filed through the door, each looking surprised to see him awake.

The doctor went over to check on the sleeping figure of the puppet and what looked like Chesh on a corner bed, busying himself with various charts and other such non-invasive medical equipment. Though he seemed to be decidedly distracted by the cat-man hybrid curled up on the covers, if his raised eyebrows were anything to go by; Chesh was an anomaly even by the standards of someone who had visited the Enchanted Forest and seen magic.

"Jefferson isn't it? How are you feeling?" Snow White asked, moving forward to the bed, the smell of cinnamon and coffee getting stronger as she set a Styrofoam cup and container on the metal bedside table. The princess's Emma-green eyes flickered from Jefferson's injured hand to her sleeping daughter curled up in his arms. Jefferson struggled to sit up straight, propping himself up on the pillows, while not trying to wake Emma; she shifted slightly but remained where she was.

"Uh yes thank you, I'm fine." Jefferson mumbled, avoiding the gaze of the woman who he kidnapped and been kicked out of a window by. She seemed to follow his train of thought by his reaction to her and offered him a tentative smile, which left him slightly dumbfounded.

"Whatever may have happened between us before, Emma seems to trust you now and I respect her judgment." Snow White said – truly in keeping with her overly kind and sympathetic character; someone who always sees the best in people... even if it isn't really there at all. The prince looked decidedly sceptical at his wife's frankly terrible decision to trust a man who had kidnapped and attacked both her and her daughter, but did not comment.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry about what I did to you and Emma." Jefferson said, forcing himself to meet both pairs of eyes in front of him. "I was trying to get Emma to believe in magic so that I could get my daughter back... I should have realized that I couldn't force her believe without any proof." A small ironic grin curled his plump pink lips. "Though I think Wonderland was proof enough for her."

"What exactly happened after you fell out of the window?" The prince asked, his blue eyes radiating mistrust and scepticism. Jefferson swallowed. He had really been hoping that Emma might be the one to explain this to her parents, or at least that she might be awake for it, but he didn't want to wake her and subject her to the onslaught of parental questions and worry that was pressing at the floodgates.

"She got the hat to work as a portal to another world, like I'd hoped, but unfortunately it was... broken... and it could only take us to Wonderland. When we fell Emma... landed on the scissors and I needed to find her a healer so took her to a friend of mine whom I once relocated into my old home in Wonderland." At this Jefferson saw Frankenstein's head turn sharply, and an indiscernible look flashed in his blue eyes, before he left the room with hurried strides. "Anyway, he helped patch both of us up and I began to explain the related worlds to her."

Both of the royals nodded at him, faces inscrutable, though David's jaw looked decidedly tense as he listened. The next bit was going to be difficult to explain them without incurring royal wrath. "We started to travel to the next town where I believed that we could find a way back to Storybrooke through a magic bean or looking glass. We made it quite far halfway through the Fungal Forest – a dangerous place – before the Queen of Heart's guards caught up with us-"

"The Queen of Hearts? Seriously?" David asked, blonde brows raised in a way that was eerily reminiscent of his daughter.

"Yeah, actually she's the second Queen of hearts – she's Regina's half-sister, names Miranda." Jefferson skated over details for the sake of time – feeling that they weren't really important right that second.

"What? Well what happened then?" Snow White questioned urgently and jefferon braced himself for a verbal onslaught as he continued.

"I kind of left her to the guards and ran away, but-" The rest of his half-assed explanation was cut off as the prince's sturdy fist met his nose with a resounding _craaack._

Hey thank you so much for the amazing, fantastical support you've given me as my most helpful and loyal reviewers! You have been awesome and in answer to your question, the last chapter of this fic will have a bit of a time jump and will contain very graphic smut between Emma and our dear distorted Hatter/Jefferson. In the sequel which I'm planning, I will be going past season 2 and 3 and most likely up to 4 or maybe a bit further. I've never done a sequel before or a fic this long or a OUAT fic, so... Don't get your hopes up? But yet again you are fabulous fangirls/boys so thank you :)


	40. 40 - An agreement of sorts

**I shall warn you now, this chapter contains graphic smut and content that may upset some readers. Read at your own risk but thank you again to everyone.**

The conversations, arguments and avoidance tactics between Emma, her parents and Jefferson had gone on for weeks. She had been awoken in the hospital to see her father being pulled off of a bleeding Jefferson by Mary-Margaret. There had been yelling, scolding for attacking injured men, awkward half-explanations; more attempted fighting, more yelling and eventually... grudging truth telling. Though David was clearly unhappy with Emma's taste in men and her willingness to forgive him, Mary-Margaret had coerced a grudging truce between them all.

Emma could understand that they were liable to being overprotective after everything that had happened to the family, but she had her own qualms with the fact that they were so willing to just drop straight into the role of parents. She had been alone and family-less for as long as she could remember – the one thing she knew in her life was that her family had abandoned her at birth. It was difficult to assimilate the idea that she now had parents, a home, a son _and_ what could be described as a relationship, all within the space of about a week.

The delaying tactics had mainly stemmed from the fact that Regina was still a clear and present danger, or so they had thought. When they had gone to her house it was only to find that as magic was still not present in Storybrooke - other for Emma and Chesh – Regina had holed herself away in her mansion in order to keep out the unhappy mob of fairy-tale characters. For the time being, Mary-Margaret and David had convinced the locals to not lynch Regina as she wasn't a threat as long as magic wasn't about. Henry had begged for them not to let Regina get hurt, but beyond that he seemed to no longer want any contact with his adopted mother.

As soon as he was able, Jefferson had left the hospital and visited the town hall where the family-finding service had been set up by Ruby – who was little red riding hood of all people -, the mother superior and Granny. The reunion with Grace had been understandably tearful, awkward and heart-breaking; Jefferson had insisted that Emma should be present in order to mediate the Hatter should he decide to raise his head. The concern seemed to be unwarranted however, as Emma saw not even a twinkle of cobalt blue in Jefferson's tear filled eyes as he embraced Grace for the first time in nearly thirty years.

Henry and Grace had already become friends at school as they were both in Mary-Margaret's class and held similar interests for fairy-tales, so when Emma got around to the awkward task of telling Henry about her tentative relationship with Jefferson it went easier than expected. Much to her relief, but not as much surprise as you might expect, Henry seemed happy that Emma was happy and grateful to Jefferson for his role in making her believe in the curse.

He immediately began pestering both of the Hatter family with numerous questions about anything and everything to do with themselves, magic, world travelling and the Enchanted forest. Jefferson seemed bemused by it all, though Emma occasionally saw flashes of the Hatter's sarcastic and dangerous nature leaking through when Henry got a bit too curious about certain aspects of Jefferson's life that he skirted around. Whenever this happened, Emma would make excuses to get Jefferson away such as that he needed his painkillers or that Henry needed to get to bed or school.

Grace and Jefferson were staying together in his mansion, after the window had been fixed and the blood cleaned away from the carpets; it turned out that Jefferson had already sorted out a room for his daughter in all those years he had spent alone in the house. The situation in Mary-Margaret's apartment had become too crowded with her, David, Emma and Henry, so Jefferson had suggested that Emma move in with him as the house was certainly not lacking on space. Henry had chosen the room next to Grace's and the four of them had a great deal of fun decorating the room to suit Henry's fairy-tale obsessed tastes. As it turned out, Grace had an aptitude for painting and the walls of both hers and Henry's rooms were soon spattered with a forest filled varying sizes of caricatures of rabbits, wolves, bears, dwarves and in one corner, poking out from behind a tree – what appeared to be a purple cat. Though how Grace had managed to track down the Cheshire Mage to get him to pose for a painting, no one knew, as he had not been seen since he had been seen asleep on August at the hospital.

That brought them up to now; Emma and Jefferson sat with half-drunk cups of steaming cinnamon laced hot chocolate and tea respectively at the sewing table in his house. Emma still had an unshakeable mistrust for tea since the whole drugging debacle, even though she now trusted Jefferson, she still held lingering suspicions over the lack of Hatter resurfacings since they got back. Grace and Henry were spending the night at Mary-Margaret's as she had volunteered to let them paint her walls with flowers and birds. The activity had gotten so messy and time consuming that the two had ended up having baths and falling asleep in Mary-Margaret's spare room.

"You know, I think this is the first time we've been alone since we got back." Emma murmured contentedly, sending Jefferson a lazy smile as he reached out to push a strand of blonde hair out of its precarious position of nearly dipping into her teacup.

"I have to admit I never thought I'd miss a bit of peace and quiet after so long in this house alone." Jefferson commented wistfully, glancing around at the twilight lit kitchen, the orange and burnt sienna colour staining the walls. The light caught Emma's blonde hair and set it aflame and twisting round the strands in a fashion that lit up her face in an angelic manner but made her forest-green eyes turn positively sinful.

"It doesn't _have_ to be quiet in here you know..." she spoke softly, enticingly, stroking a hand down the side of Jefferson's face in such an intimate manner that he shifted and let out a huff of nervous breath.

"Emma...I'm not sure if we should go down this road just quite yet..."

"I bet those nights were awfully long, cold and lonesome..." Jefferson arched a dark eyebrow at her clearly suggestive tone, cobalt flickering in his gaze momentarily.

"And I bet you would know all about that wouldn't you my dear?" His hand curled around Emma's in a grip that just slightly too tight to be Jefferson's.

She swallowed.

"Oh don't get shy on us now." The Hatter murmured and a dark smirk curled the corners of plump pink lips; he pulled her closer with his grip on her hand until their faces were inches apart. He pressed forward until their lips met with that same dark passion that she saw in his eyes, his hands coming up to brace the sides of her face in that same slightly-too tight grip.

Emma felt a strange surge of both something close to being fear and also exhilaration. The Hatter was much more forceful with his touches than Jefferson ever was, as over the past few weeks he seemed to have been holding back; most likely to prevent any losses of control like this. But as much as she did feel a tremor of fear; the passion and heat of this rough contact was that much more exiting than the soft Jefferson kisses alone could achieve.

She entwined her fingers in his soft brown hair tightly, wrestling for dominance as the Hatter did the same, his strength and height gave him a distinct advantage as he pulled her off of her own chair and onto his lap. He let out an amused chuckle as he broke off from her to move his lips down her neck, nipping, sucking and marking in livid bruising patterns as he went.

He paused at the silvery scar and line of stitches that wrapped her swan-like neck, breathing warm against the exposed flesh. She gasped as his teeth punctured the surface of her over sensitized skin in a way that was more than just a love bite – it was a clear marking of territory, and she got the feeling she knew just who he was staking a claim against.

"Jefferson..." Emma's voice was cut off as the Hatter dug his teeth in slightly deeper at her clavicle in warning, his cobalt eyes snapping up to meet hers with dark warning clear in them.

She met his gaze levelly, breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed before she reached forward and gripped the material of his cravat and pulled it from his neck – revealing his own jagged, silvery scar that wrapped the expanse. The Hatter looked pleasantly surprised as Emma began to return the same attention he had shown her to the scarred flesh, his hands moving down to cup her jean clad ass. She let out a surprised yelp as he lifted her up suddenly and slammed her back down onto the table in front of him, scattering crafting materials everywhere and causing her to yelp again; this time in pain as several pins jabbed into her bare arms.

The Hatter pulled away the pins from her flesh with a few rough yanks that left light, bleeding scratches that further awakened Emma's senses as his tongue then came down to lap at the red streaks left on her ivory skin. While one of his hands was busy holding her arm up to his mouth, the other went to work unbuttoning her blouse, some of the buttons scattering due to his impatient, clumsy fingers. In an attempt to help the process of undressing, Emma brought her free hand up to help, but accidentally brushed against the stumps of his fingers as she did so.

Hatter hissed in pain and anger as the still tender flesh seared with fresh fire and he ripped the remainder of Emma's shirt off with his other hand, leaving the garment in shreds of useless material on the table. He gripped both of her wrists in a strong grip of his good hand and pinned them above her head, she muttered a half-heard apology that caught in the back of her throat as his eyes turned to a flickering haze of swirling blues. His skilled fingers collected the abandoned material of his cravat and began to wrap it expertly around Emma's wrists, knotting the end around the backs of her hands such a way that she could not reach around to free herself. He smirked down at her.

"Naughty girl." He murmured in a teasing tone, stroking his injured free hand down the side of her marked neck and toward her heaving chest. One hand moved to cup her bra-clad breast, pulling the material down so roughly that the bra split open, the wiring reduced to broken plastic that poked into her sides. Emma hissed slightly and moved her legs up to wrap around the Hatter's back, pulling him closer to her and offering him a teasing smirk. He grinned back down at her in a slightly bemused fashion and leant down until his lips brushed her ear. "You're playing a very dangerous game little Swan."

Looking him dead on in those swirling cobalt eyes she spoke in a soft but firm voice. "I know." With that she captured his lips in a matching intensity to his own, her tongue pushing its way past his lips and biting at his pouty pink lips. He seemed surprised at first but his hands took advantage of her preoccupation to rid her of the rest of her clothing, then pulling at his own. She kept her arms where he had left them above her head; something about surrendering bodily control to the Hatter was incredibly arousing – letting this deranged and dangerous man do whatever he wanted with her was thrilling beyond words. Maybe it was because she was usually the dominant one in a relationship with her naturally assertive nature taking over, but now she revelled in the sheer delightful danger of the situation. The little scratches, bruises and pricks all over her body awakened her senses to then appreciate the pleasure the hatter was bringing her with his touches and lips that much more.

His lips brushed her nipple and she shuddered in pleasure as he latched onto it, biting down slightly too hard and sucking until her back arched up into him, her eyes rolling back slightly in her head. One of his hands moved down to free his straining cock from the confines of his trousers even as his attentions turned to the other breast, Emma managed to gather enough of her scattered attention together to glance down at him. Having not been with any man since Neal over ten years ago, Emma was slightly apprehensive to see the size of Jefferson, even as she felt her arousal crank up several notches. Her centre was unbearably wet and was clenching so much that she could hardly focus enough to form words.

"Be...careful... it's been... a while..." she panted, moving her tied hands up to brush his cheek lightly, his eyes flickered momentarily and a lighter blue shone through with concern bright in the swirling colour.

"E-emma...I...I-m sorry...I tried to warn you..." It was Jefferson's stuttering tone that cut through Emma and she saw the panicked look in his eyes. His fumbling fingers moving to try to untie her hands, but she pulled them away, earning a confused look from Jefferson. She understood his fear but was decided, she knew what she wanted and she knew that both the Hatter and Jefferson could work together to achieve it. A balance had to be achieved in order for this relationship to work and Jefferson had to release some of his fear of his darker half in order to do it. And the best way to do that was to exercise some trust in both of them.

"It's okay – I trust you – _both_ of you." She spoke with conviction, her forest green eyes piercing into shifting blue; she needed him to understand this. He took a long deep breath, there was a final flicker in his gaze and then his eyes split in the same way they had in the mushroom smoke in Wonderland. One fiery cobalt and one loving china blue.

Emma moved her bound hands to go over the top of his head to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him flush against her, bare chest to bare chest. His eyes were burning blue as he moved his hips forward in one move that was just the right amount of roughness, but slow enough so that it didn't cause any damage to either of them. She gasped at the entrance, shifting her hips as much as she could to get him in _deeper_ , he obliged with parted lips and strong hands gripping her wrists above her head still. His trusts began slow and slightly awkward, but soon she could feel the Hatter taking over the motion, pressing in faster and harder until both were panting and moaning in unison.

She pulled him in tighter with her scissored legs around his waist and ass and she could tell he was getting close. His eyes pierced hers as he quickened his thrusts, arching forward into her with an open mouthed silent scream, she felt him release and immediately pull out. Emma looked up at him in confusion for a moment, teetering on the edge of her own climax and disappointed before she saw him shoot her a wink that made her moan and he ducked to head and begin licking. She let out a surprised cry, her eyes shooting wide and her back arching once more. It wasn't long before his talented tongue pushed her over the edge as well.

They lay there next to each other on the wooden table top, panting, uncomfortable, but unwilling to move for several minutes before a slightly nervous sounding voice cut through the silence. "Um, sorry about your clothes..."

Emma couldn't help but break out into a fit of giggles, and shoot him an incredulous look to which Jefferson offered a heart-meltingly awkward smile. "That all you have to say?"

"Well _he_ has quite a few things to say, but none of which I feel comfortable repeating." He mumbled, reaching over to untie the cravat from around her slightly chafed wrists. She rubbed her wrist lightly with one hand, leaning over with the other to brush a sweaty strand of hair from his forehead. He looked at her with such warmth in his eyes and the quirk of those pink, pink lips that she couldn't resist going in for another sweet kiss, rolling him over onto his back as she straddled him, gently nipping at his lips and the both of them giggling.

It was with a surge of great irritation that Emma finally broke away as the doorbell chimed throughout the house. With an annoyed huff she flopped off of Jefferson and he sat up, taking great care in re-fluffing his messy hair – she smirked at the gesture.

"Expecting anyone?" she asked in a whisper, looking at him quizzically.

"Not at-" Jefferson glanced over at a hanging pocket watch on one of the hat stands. "Half-past one in the morning I'm not, no."

The bell rang again and Emma groaned, her mind flickering to the badly timed idea that it could be her parents. "Think we should just pretend to be asleep?"

Jefferson smirked and reached for his discarded boxers, pulling them on and silently pointing to the ceiling, Emma grinned too as she got the message, picked up the salvageable clothing and began to tiptoe behind him to the door to the hallway.

The bell rang again and this time she heard an impatient accented voice call through the front door. "I know you're there Sherriff Swan, so I would appreciate it if you would just answer the door."

Emma froze and swore under her breath, dropping the pile of clothing except for Jefferson's crinkled purple shirt, slipping on the rich cotton and quickly buttoning it up. "Goddamn it Gold." She muttered as she hastened down the hall to open the front door, revealing Mr Gold, dressed as impeccably as ever. He raised an eyebrow at her obviously dishevelled and half-dressed state, but Emma just sent him a glare – he was the one calling on her in the middle of the night unannounced.

"What the hell do you want Gold?" Emma snapped, crossing her arms over her chest as she stood, the door only half-open, not making any move to invite him in.

"Is that the thanks I get for sending you help on your little trip down the Rabbit Hole then dearie?" He smiled tightly at her, an edge of warning to his chocolate brown eyes.

"Oh you mean sending August into the pile of crap we were already in? Yeah, thanks for that." She scoffed. "Now why are you here?"

"I was wondering if you would be willing to do me a service, Sherriff Swan."

Emma huffed, pulling the shirt tighter around herself; still making no move to invite him in.

"You're finally calling in that damn favour then?"

Gold tilted his head and his eyes darkened slightly – became more haunted and when he spoke his voice was a soft, sad lilt. "No, not just yet dearie."

"Then what makes you think I would ever do anything for you?" Emma asked with raised brows and a scowl. Gold offered her a smirk that set her teeth on edge with amount of sheer smugness that emanated from it.

"Well, there is the matter of dear Jefferson's missing digits..." He said, wiggling his own in the air in a melodramatic flourish. "Should you do this small favour for me, I could find myself willing to reunite your precious mental deficient with his fingers."

Emma fixed him with a hard stare for several long seconds before she opened the door and gestured for him to come in. "Now what sort of small favour would the great Rumpelstiltskin want from me?"

"That's a good question." Jefferson had come up to stand behind her in the corridor, now wrapped up in an embroidered blue dressing gown. He fixed Gold with a hard stare, and the impish man halted in the hallway, framed by the porch-light coming through open door behind him. He rested his hands upon his gold-topped cane in front of him and smiled a mischievous smile.

"I need you, dear Saviour, to retrieve something precious for me from a dragon's lair."


End file.
